Welcome to Charming
by crimsonheart01
Summary: SAMCRO asks Evangeline to care for Filip when he arrives in Charming. Safe to say that they don't get along very well. Evangeline was not blessed with patience and Filip is stubborn to say the least. Rated M for Language & Adult Content (also for future Violence). [Chibs/OC Pairing]
1. Someone New

**A/N: This is my first fan fic, ever! If you're reading it, let me know what you think and leave a review! Thanks :) Also I know it's clear that Lee has a accent, it's Creole (the French will come along later) from New Orleans/the Bayou. **

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><p>I jolted awake, whipping the covers away from me. I squinted, staring out at the pitch black room. <em>What the hell was that?<em> My heart was pounding making the blood and adrenaline rush through my veins. I leaned over the side of the bed, carefully unhooking my Glock from its holster hidden under the bed. I cocked it back and listened intently around me. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I couldn't keep myself in the typical 'fight or flight' mode. I needed to be centred and ready for whatever had woken me.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

I whipped to my left, facing my bedroom door. It sounded like someone was banging on my door. I jumped out of my bed, stalking down the hall towards the noise. I slid around the corner, my back facing the front window. Before reaching the door, I glanced at the digital clock, glowing green, on my TV stand. It shone a bright 2:30 AM at me. I narrowed my eyes. _Who the fuck was at my door this late at night?_ I leaned into the wall, flattening my back. I peeked behind the front window curtain and saw a group of men huddled around my front door. I didn't have my porch light on so I couldn't make them out. They were wearing all black.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

I tiptoed to the door, and peered through one of the three long glass windows. There was a blonde, white man slamming his fist against my door. I lifted the glock to the door, making sure it was eye level with the man outside my door and slid the lock out-of-place. I heard the soft click and based on the reaction of the man on the other side, he heard it too. I turned the doorknob, inch by inch until I creaked the door open.

"Who's there?" I demanded through the crack in my door.

A gruff voice answered, "Its Jax."

I narrowed my eyes again. I pulled the door wide open but left my gun in the same place. Aiming it perfectly at the spot right in-between Jackson's eyes.

"Woah…" He took a step backwards and lifted his hands up into the air; a sign of surrender.

I hissed, "It's two fuckin' thirty in the mornin', Jackson. Why are ya trying ta break ma door down?"

"Put the gun down, Lee." He commanded.

I snorted, he had no right to tell me what to do. I left it where it was, still aimed.

He rolled his eyes, "Listen, I know it's late but the club needs to ask you a favour."

"Go on." I motioned with my gun.

He dropped his hands and stepped to the right. Behind him there was Opie and Tig hoisting up another man by his underarms. The man's legs were hanging below him, knees just scrapping the pavement. I couldn't make out his face because it was hanging forward and his hair was aiding the shadow already cast on his face.

I raised an eyebrow, "The club can't pay ma fee Jackson."

"It's not like that!" Jackson explained, "We need you to do the opposite, we need you to keep him alive."

"WHAT!" I shouted.

Jackson covered my mouth, "Shhh!"

I smacked his arm away, "Get your hands off me!" I shook my anger away, "Why? What's so special 'bout him?"

Tig answered this time, "He's a transfer, patching over and in real bad shape. No one in the club has room to take him in."

"Y'all don't have an extra room at the clubhouse?" I asked.

The three of them just stared at me in silence.

Opie whispered, "We'll owe ya big time, Lee."

I rolled my eyes, "Yea, you will." I sighed but beckoned them inside, "Come on. Put him in the spare room."

Jackson kissed me on the cheek, "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just get this settled fast, I'm tired." I complained.

Tig smiled widely at me as he and Ope dragged the broken man through my front door. I guided from behind them to my spare room. They hoisted the man onto the bed, making sure that he was situated and as comfortable as possible before backing out of the room. I glanced at the man lying there, he was completely out. I shook my head and shut the door behind me. I followed the boys back to my front door. They exited but stood around my front porch for a minute.

Tig gave me a one-armed hug, "You're the best doll."

I scoffed, "I can't believe I associate with y'all."

Jackson and Ope laughed. Tig let go and Jackson came forward, squeezing me into a hug.

"Seriously Lee, we owe you." Jackson said.

I nodded, "Yeah. I'll figure out what I need from y'all and then let you know."

The three of them turned to leave and I walked back inside.

Before they could venture too far off I called out, "Do I need to know anything special about my new guest?"

They all shook their heads but Ope answered, "He just needs some time to heal and recuperate. He's had a hard time making his way to Charming."

"Alright. I'll give one of you a call tomorrow. Let you know his progress… If there is any." I answered.

They all smiled and turned back to their bikes. I shut the door, locking it and dragging my feet back to my room. I stopped briefly at the spare room door, and cracked it open. The man was still fast asleep. I rubbed a hand down my face, it was too late for me to do anything. I shut the door and went back to my room. I flopped down on my bed, curling the covers around my legs and pulling the pillow snugly under my head. I drifted off to sleep with my other hand still on my gun, under the other pillow.

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><p>Tig and Jackson pulled up to TM, parking their bikes. Opie had turned off a ways back, to go home to his wife. It was late and anyone who was around was bound to be sound asleep. As they walked towards the dark clubhouse door, Tig struck up a conversation.<p>

"You think it was a good idea to leave the Scot with Lee?" Tig asked.

Jackson sighed, "She's the only one with the capabilities to keep him safe."

Tig shrugged, "We could've given him a room at the clubhouse… I mean I feel bad about dropping him on Lee. She's not the nicest when it comes to us."

Jackson shook his head, "We don't know where his head is at. He needs to be under constant supervision. If we left him here, the crow eaters would never be able to care for him properly. Lee knows what this life is like, hell I think she's lived in it longer than most of us. She's the best option we have."

It was Tig's turn to sigh, "I just don't know about her. She's too volatile. She can be loving one minute but will kill you in the next."

Jax scoffed, "If you're that worried about the guy why don't you take him home?"

Tig gave Jax a condescending look.

"Alright, alright. I'll have the prospect go over in the morning. I'll have him take up post with Lee until the Scot is back up on his feet. I'm sure Lee will be cool with that." Jax rolled his eyes.

The two of them entered the clubhouse and Tig immediately found a few crow eaters to spend the remainder of his night with. Jax paused, thinking about Wendy but pushed on. He made his way to his and Ope's dorm room, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep fully clothed.


	2. Manners

**A/N: Chapter 2! I have a few chapters already written so I'll be adding them as fast as possible. Have to go through and proof read and all that jazz. Let me know what you think! :) **

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><p>I woke up to the sun shining through my window, incredibly bright. I still hadn't gotten used to the brightness of the sun out here in the desert. It was on mornings like this that I missed the Nola. Even when the weather was sticky and hot, the sun was still never as blindingly bright as it was out here. I turned over, onto my back and stretched out my legs. I moved my arms, to stretch them when I realized I was still gripping my gun. At first I was confused and stared at it blankly, then the entire night's event rushed back into my consciousness. I sat up, rolling my neck, working out all the kinks and groaned. I needed to check on my new house guest.<p>

I hopped out of bed, tucked away the Glock back into its holster and made my bed. I continued on to the bathroom that was shared between my room and the guest room. I went about my daily routine, brushing my teeth, washing my face, moisturizing, and braiding my hair back, away from my face.

I walked back to my room, grabbing the first zip up hoodie in my closet and continued on down the hall. I knocked lightly on the guest room door. I waited for an answer of some sort but heard nothing. I knocked again, a bit louder but still nothing. I turned the knob, pushing the door open a few inches. I peered in, checking to make sure that my guest was still decent before walking in unannounced. I spotted him still out cold on the bed. I opened the door wide and strode in. He had shifted in his sleep and was now lying on his side, facing the door. I examined him for a second, he didn't look very comfortable. I pushed his hair up off his forehead to further inspect his face. He didn't even stir at my touch. He was hot, possibly running a low fever. I figured I should take off most of his clothes, to cool him down.

I started with his boots, untying them and gently pulling them off. I placed them neatly, side by side, at the end of the bed. I peeled his leather vest, or cut as the boys called it, off his left arm, and dared to push him lightly onto his back and then other side. Luckily he was compliant, making small noises of discomfort but never actually waking up. I folded the cut, placing it on the side table, in plain view. I unzipped his black hoodie, but decided against moving him around too much and left it as open as possible. Lastly I noticed he was sporting a few rings on his fingers. Out of fear that he'd lose circulation, I moved to pull them off. Heat made the body swell and if he did have a fever, the rings would soon cut all blood circulation to those fingers. If this man was to be in my care, I couldn't have his fingers falling off. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his right hand into my lap. I gently tugged on his reaper ring, and then his Harley one. I placed them both on the side table, next to his cut, in an orderly fashion. I reached over him, grabbing his left hand to pull his other ring off. When his hand was closer to my view, I noticed that this particular ring was his wedding band. I fought internally as to whether I should take it off. I twirled the ring around his finger, deciding that there was still some wiggle room with this particular ring and left it alone. I didn't want him to panic further when waking up thinking his wedding ring was missing.

Before getting up to leave I inspected the cuts on his face. I noticed the familiar statement, a Glasgow smile. Whoever did this to him, had a major grudge against him. I could see that the wounds were starting to scab over, but there was a lot of pus forming around them. They needed to be cleaned or they would get severely infected.

I got up, walked around the bed to the bathroom door and rummaged through the cabinet under the sink for my first aid kit. I walked back into the room and began tending to his wounds. I kneeled on the bed, leaning over him, cleaning the wounds out, covering them in anti-septic and smothering them with cream that would speed up the healing process. As I cleaned his face up, I had no choice but to reopen the wounds so they would heal properly and all the puss had chance to seep out. I took some gauze and covered the cuts, lightly taping them down. I cleared up all the cotton swabs and Q-tips, making sure that I didn't leave anything behind. I carried out the kit and shut the door quietly behind me.

Hours later, I was standing in the kitchen, sweating over the stove. I had tied a red bandana in my hair to keep my bangs and stray hairs from falling into my eyes. I spent the afternoon in a comfortable silence, listening for any commotion from my guest. Close to supper time, I started working on a nice chicken stew, with parsley dumplings. I wasn't sure if my guest would be up for eating, but I figured if I offered something easy to eat, with minimal facial movements, he'd be grateful.

I dipped a spoon into my pot, bringing it back up and tasted the stock. I nodded, it was good. I would have preferred a little more kick to it, but I wasn't making just for myself today. Not everyone had the same tolerance to spices that I did. I turned and grabbed the bowl of the dumpling mixture, spooning out dollops, dropping them in a place around the edge of the pot. Once I had filled the top of the pot completely with the dumplings, I placed the cover over. I picked the timer up off the counter and turned it to exactly 12 minutes. Maw-maw's recipes always called for 10 to 15 minutes for dumplings, but having made these babies so many times, I adjusted the recipe to specifically 12 minutes. That was the best time that made the best dumplings.

As I put the timer back down on the counter, next to the stove, I heard someone rapping on my door. I swiped the towel hanging from the stove and made my way to the door, wiping my hands thoroughly. I glanced through the door windows and noticed a member of the Sons standing on my doorstep.

"What can I do for ya, hunny?" I answered, opening the door.

The younger man at the door stared at me for a moment. I waited.

"I… uh… Jax sent me over." He answered.

I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms across my chest, "Huh. Did Jax happen ta tell ya why?"

The kid shook his head, "No ma'am..."

I held up a hand, stopping him, "Slow down there kid, I'm no ma'am. Name's Evangeline, but your boys call me Lee."

The kid smiled, "Juice."

I raised both my eyebrows, 'Ya're name is Juice?"

"That's my club name, but my given name is Juan Carlos." He continued.

"Ya got a last name?" I asked.

He nodded, "Ortiz."

I chuckled, "Alright, if ya don't mind kid, I'm gonna call ya Ortiz."

I beckoned the kid in, pointing towards the kitchen. I hovered over the stove, as Ortiz took a seat at the kitchen table. I opened the lid a few inches, breathing in the glorious smell of food. I double checked the time and still had 8 minutes to go before the dumplings would be ready. I put the lid back down, and walked around the island to the other side of the kitchen. All the while I could feel the kid's eyes on me.

"Hungry?" I called across the kitchen.

I didn't spare him a glance, instead reaching to pull out three bowls, and come cutlery.

"Yes ma'am." He answered.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he corrected himself, "Yes Lee!"

I smiled, "Dinner will be served in another few minutes."

I placed the bowls next to the stove. I bent down, opening one of the cupboards in the island and pulled out a try. I began loading it up with the cutlery, a few napkins, and a glass of ice-cold water from the fridge. I pulled out a beer for the kid, assuming he was at least 21, and popped the top off with my apron. I handed to him and he accepted with a slight nod of his head. I went back to the fridge and poured myself a tall glass of sweet tea. I leaned against the counter waiting for the timer to go off.

"Jax tell ya how long ya need to hang around?" I asked.

Ortiz shrugged, "I'm just a prospect. I don't ask questions."

I nodded, "Ya know anythin' about my house guest?"

"Just that he's a transfer, who came from Belfast." He answered.

I let that information sink in. An Irishman transferring to California… From the cuts on his face, to the distance he'd travelled, clearly something had gone south for him. While I was lost in my thoughts, the cook timer went off. I put my glass down and turned the burner off. I pulled the lip off, placing it on the other side of the stove. I picked up a bowl and began spooning out generous portions of stew and dumplings.

"I hope ya like chicken stew." I commented.

I filled a bowl up for the kid. He was up and standing next to me within seconds, pulling the bowl out of my hands.

"Careful," I warned, "The bowl's hot."

I was answered by a hiss and I laughed. I filled a second bowl, placing it on the tray. I left the third bowl empty, meaning to come back for it after leaving the tray for the Irishman. Ortiz was sitting at the table, trying to scarf down the stew, but being delayed by the hotness of it. I smiled, it made me feel good to have someone enjoy my meals. It reminded me why I opened the restaurant here in town in the first place.

I sauntered down the hall, knocking lightly on the guest room door. There was no answer, but I could hear movement behind it.

"Ya hungry?" I asked as I pushed the door open.

I walked into the room to find the Irishman sitting against the end of the bed, had pulled his bandages off his face and was staring lifelessly at the wall. It looked as though he had picked at the wounds on his face. I dropped the tray down on the vanity and bent down to his eye level.

"What d'ya think ya're doing?" I scolded, "Ya need ta keep those wounds covered or they'll get infected."

He didn't look at me but mumbled, "Then let'em."

I was aware that he had an accent, but it didn't sound Irish, as Ortiz had suggested. There was a stronger tinge to his words, a burr if you will.

I sighed, "Come now, suga. Ya can't be like that. Maybe some food'll help ya feel better."

I got back up and brought the tray over to him. I placed it on the floor next to him, urging him to eat. He turned to me this time and stared at me with those dead eyes.

"Jus' fuck off" he mumbled.

I raised my eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

He lifted his hand and flung it out, knocking over the glass of water. He stared me down, waiting for my reaction. I took a deep breath in, trying to focus my temper.

"You best remember ya're in my house." I warned the stranger.

He lifted his hand again, moving to knock over the bowl of stew. I caught his wrist with my hand and squeezed hard. The man squinted but I didn't let up.

"There's no need to be rude. If ya don't want ta eat, just say so." I dropped his hand and stood up quickly.

I left the bowl of stew sitting on the tray, fully expecting him to dump it out but turned my back and stalked out the door. I slammed it shut behind me, beyond pissed. _Why the fuck would Jackson bring someone like him to me?_ I saw Ortiz's face peer down the hallway from the kitchen doorway and I plastered a fake smile onto my face. I didn't want to take my anger out on the kid. He hadn't done anything wrong. I went back into the kitchen pouring some food into my bowl. I sat down at the table, across from Ortiz. I spooned a few mouthfuls into my mouth, allowing the silence in the kitchen to drag out.

"Ya can have seconds, if ya're still hungry." I offered.

Ortiz gave me his blinding smile and shot up, scooping more stew into his bowl.

I sighed into my bowl, I had no patience to deal with this 'guest' in my house. What was I going to do? I continued eating, deciding that as soon as I was finished, I needed to make a call to Jackson and Clay.

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><p>The remainder of the week was trying to say the least. The Scot, as I had finally pinpointed his accent, was being as difficult as possible. I was beyond frustrated with him. He was refusing to eat, and whenever I re-bandaged his face, he'd just rip them off afterwards. I tried to be civil and leave him a nice hot tea in the mornings, but as soon as I'd leave the room I'd hear the smashing of the glass against the door. I started giving him plastic mugs so that I didn't have to keep cleaning up his mess. After a few days of my patience wearing thin, I began avoiding him at all costs, in fear that I would lose my temper with him.<p>

I also had another guest on my hands to take care of; Ortiz. Clay and Jackson asked the kid to hang around and keep an eye on the Scot. I knew that was their way of telling the kid to watch me, they weren't sure how well they could trust me and that further frustrated me. They were the ones who asked me to look after the Scot in the first place. Now they decided they wanted to play it safe? Ortiz was now occupying my living room, and eating me out of house and home. I was going to have to demand that the club pay my grocery bills, now that I was feeding two of their members. Well feeding one of them, but he ate enough for the starving Scot and himself put together.


	3. The Hardest Thing

**A/N: Last already written chapter! Now I just need to get my inspiration on and continue writing the rest of the story. Let me know what you think! :) **

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><p>On a rainy Saturday morning I barged into the Scots room, not caring if he was awake or not. He groaned upon seeing me come in. I had bandages, peroxide, cotton swabs, vitamin k cream and roll of paper towel. I still hadn't learned his name and all the other club members had taken to just calling him the Scot. At this point I was so fed up I didn't even care. When I sat down on the edge of the bed, dropping my supplies on the side table, he attempted to push himself up and off. I clapped a hand down on his chest and pushed him back against the pillows.<p>

"Sit still." I commanded.

He rolled his eyes but stayed where he was. I savagely ripped off two pieces of paper towel and folded them in quarters. I spun open the peroxide bottle and poured the liquid onto paper towel and moved to dab it along his cheeks. As soon as the mixture touched his face he hissed and knocked my hand away. I narrowed my eyes at him and held his hand down, dabbing along his cheek.

With his other hand, he grabbed my wrist, stopping me, "Leave. Me. Alone."

I scoffed, "No. Yer here in my care, I'm gonna make sure ya heal properly. Whether ya like it or not."

I ripped my hand out of his grasp, reaching for his face again. He knocked it away for a second time. My nostrils and temper flared. That was my last straw. I grabbed the bottle of peroxide. He watched, a tinge of curiosity in those dead eyes at what I was doing. I stared him straight in the eyes and I poured half the bottle of peroxide onto the towel in my hand. While his eyes were still on mine, I slapped my hand down on his cheek, pressing the soaked towel into his wound. He jumped away from me with a hiss.

"What tha fuck?!" he yelled.

I stood up, "How's that feel? Ya like that?"

I stalked out of the room, leaving the door wide open. I went to my room, bent under the left side of my bed and ripped the Glock out of its holster. I turned around stalking back to the Scots room. At this point, I could hear Ortiz stirring in the living room. We'd clearly woken him up with our yelling.

I cocked my gun and sped into his room. He was sitting with his legs hung over the edge of the bed, gingerly pulling the towel off his face. His face shot in my direction when he heard the gun cocking. I rushed up to him, pushing my gun against his temple. His eyes widened but there wasn't a flicker of fear or contempt in his eyes. The only emotion I could detect was acceptance. He was going to let me kill him, right here, right now.

I scoffed, "Ya've got to be kiddin' me. Ya're really just gonna give up like that?"

He stared, no words forming in his mouth.

I shook my head pressing the gun harder against his temple, "Listen here, I don't know what happened to ya, and frankly I don't care but ya were given a second chance at life. Fuckin' accept it. Ya may not like it but someone, somewhere figured ya'd be better off alive. Starvin' yaself and letting those wounds fester is not called livin'."

My voice grew into a shout as I ranted on. He jerked backwards as the words came flying out of my mouth, but still nothing changed in those eyes. I heard movement behind me and Ortiz was slowly inching into the room, a gun held up to me.

I rolled my eyes, "Back off kid. Ya don't even look confident holdin' that thing up to me."

I turned back to the Scot, "Here's the deal I'm done with ya shit. Done. If ya want to slowly kill yaself, fine. I won't stand in ya way. But let me just give ya a few partin' words: _the hardest thing in this world – is to live in it._"

I backed away from the Scot, flicking the safety back in place. I retreated out the door, Ortiz still standing in the middle, unsure of where to go.

Over my shoulder I noted, "If yer feelin' like ya might give ya life a second chance, ya know where to find me."

I disappeared down the hall back into my room. I slammed the door shut and made sure that the bathroom door was shut and locked as well. I tossed the gun onto the bed and sunk down. I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees and head in my hands. I couldn't understand what was wrong with that man. He'd been given a second chance at life and here he was trying to sabotage all of that. I could relate, I knew how hard it was to live in this world, but I'd never completely given up; not in the way he had.

The hours had flown by while I kept myself busy, alone, in my room. I was grumpy, tired, frustrated and in an altogether horrible mood. The week had finally caught up to me and I needed something to work out my mood. I hadn't been in to the restaurant at all this week. Once the boys dropped the Scot off, I called in and took some time off. I had been cooped up in the same house with an asshole and a kid. I needed to get out, even if it was only for an hour.

I got dressed, pulling on a pair of blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt and grey zip up hoodie. I had my hair pulled back in its usual French braid. I pulled my door open, noting that the Scots door was now closed. I walked past, ignoring the door completely. I passed the living room, Ortiz glanced up but I didn't acknowledge him. I walked into the kitchen looking through the fridge and my cupboards for all the necessary ingredients that I needed for my favourite meal. Whenever I was down, Maw-maw would make me her famous fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy and coleslaw. The process took some time and I figured if I cooked my favourite meal, I'd make myself feel a little bit better. I grabbed a pen and my note pad off the fridge, writing down the ingredients that I didn't have. I double checked everything, folding the piece of paper. I turned to leave the kitchen and found Ortiz standing there watching me.

"I need to do some grocery shoppin'." I explained, "Think ya can hold down the fort?"

He had his arms crossed across his chest but nodded in agreement.

I lifted my purse up off the end counter and strode past the prospect.

I called to him as I walked out the door, "I won't be more than an hour."

When I got home I dropped off the groceries in the kitchen and I quickly changed out of my jeans and into yoga shorts. I made my way back to the kitchen and immediately immersed myself into making dinner. I pinned my bangs back, hoping that they'd stay where they were. I started with the coleslaw, knowing that the longer I let it sit in the fridge, the better it would taste at dinnertime.

About two hours later, I was standing over the stove, carefully pouring the juices from the fried chicken into a sauce pan. I added flour and butter, and some water. Letting the gravy simmer and thicken. I laid out the chicken on a paper towel covered platter, making sure that I was giving each piece enough room to cool. I heard footsteps dragging across my floor and stop at the kitchen doorway. Ortiz must have been hungry.

Without looking up I called out, "Hope ya like fried chicken."

I smiled brightly and looked up from where I was stirring the gravy for the mashed potatoes. It took me a second to register who was standing in the doorway but as soon as I did, my smile disappeared. I froze, my eyes narrowing. The Scot was standing in the middle of the doorway staring at me. I heard a bit of commotion coming from the living room, and it sounded like Ortiz was on the phone. He was speaking rapidly to someone, probably to one of the club members. The Scot and I stared each other down, neither moving nor speaking. I remembered swiftly that I needed to keep stirring and I looked back down into my gravy, making sure I hadn't burnt it. I did my best to try to ignore the man standing in the door but he kept his eyes trained on me. Once the gravy was finished, I distracted myself by pulling out a gravy boat, and pouring the thick liquid into it. I scraped the sauce pan to the bottom, making sure that I got every useable morsel of gravy into the boat. I set the pan back down and moved to the mashed potatoes. I had made my specialty garlic and herb ones, and I spooned the contents of the pot into a large bowl. I took both the bowl of mashed potatoes and the boat of gravy and carried them over to my four-seater kitchen table. Ortiz came into the kitchen, silently seating himself at the table, in the chair closest to the door. I picked up the tray of chicken, too abruptly and it teetered in my grasp. I struggled to regain my hold when I felt a pair of rough hands grab the tray around mine. I looked up and found the Scot evening out the weight of the tray.

"Filip." He said.

I gave him a confused look, unsure what he was going on about.

He pulled the tray out of my hands, "My name. It's Filip."

I stood up, dusting my hands together and watched as he turned towards the table putting the tray of chicken in the center. I was still confused, but feeling as though my words had finally got through to the man who was slowly giving up his life. He stood awkwardly in front of the table unsure of what to do next.

"Sit." I ordered.

He took the seat across from Ortiz's usual spot and where I usually sat. I went around the island, reaching above the sink to grab another plate and pulled out the cutlery from the drawer to my right. I walked around the Scot… or I should say Filip now that I knew his name, and set another place on the table next to him. Ortiz was eyeing all the food with wonder.

I chuckled, "Dig in."

He piled the food up on his plate, ignoring the weird vibe pulsing between the Scot and I. I reached in front of Filip and grabbed his plate. I dropped a dollop of potatoes, two pieces of chicken, and a few spoonfuls of coleslaw onto his plate.

Without looking at him I asked, "Gravy?"

"Yea." He grunted.

I poured the gravy over the potatoes and handed him his plate. I settled in, making a plate for myself and began picking at the chicken. Ortiz was shoving food into his mouth and Filip tenderly ate his portions. Filip took a break, leaning back in his chair. I peered over at him and noticed the small look of pain on his face. I dropped my fork onto my plate and leaned towards him.

I examined his face, "Need some pain killers?"

He shifted sideways, to stare at me, "Ya got any?"

I gave him a crooked smile, "Of course. I'll be right back."

I left the kitchen, making my way to the bathroom. I grabbed the bottles, of Tylenol 3's and Percocet that I had. I wasn't sure how much pain he was in so I figured I'd give him a choice. As I walked out of the bathroom I decided to chance another cleaning and ran into his room, scooping up the essentials I had brought in earlier. I walked back into the kitchen setting everything down on the table in between our plates. I scooted my chair forward and turned his face to look at me.

"Think ya can manage a real cleaning this time?" I questioned.

I saw a small flicker of amusement in his eyes and he nodded, "I guess."

I handed him the two bottles of pain killers letting him choose while I got to work with the peroxide and some cotton swabs. He placed the percs back on the table and held the T3 bottle tightly in his hand.

I warned, "This'll sting."

I cupped his face, positioning it to the left slightly, and began dabbing the cotton swabs along the cut. He winced at the pain but continued to let me clean his wounds. I turned his face the other way and cleaned out the wounds on the other side as well. I let go of his face and picked up the antiseptic cream. I scooped up a bit onto my index finger and when I reached back up for him, he'd turned his face to accommodate me. I slathered the cream on top of his cheek and he turned accordingly so I could do the next side. I wiped off my finger on the paper towel and reached for the bandages. I realized that he'd have a trouble opening his mouth wide once I bandaged his face and I got up.

When I reached the fridge I called to Filip, "Sweet tea or beer?"

He didn't answer and I turned, wondering why. I found that he was staring at me with a curiosity on his face. I raised one eyebrow at him but he remained silent. I pivoted away from his prying eyes and grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea.

I called out as I poured him a glass, "Sweet tea it is."

I picked up the glass and met him again at the table. His eyes still hadn't left me and I was beginning to feel a bit irked. Why was he watching me so intently? I put the glass down in front of him and waited while he took a big sip, tossing two pills into his mouth. He swallowed and gulped down another drink of the sweet liquid. I pulled my chair even closer to him, picking up a bandage and leaned forward. When I leaned into him, our legs brushed against one another. I paused, staring down at the place where we'd touched. That simple touch had sent a course of heat through my body. I furrowed my brows, unclear as to why I was suddenly so attracted to this man. Our eyes locked gazes and I could see the same questions flickering in his eyes. I shook off the feeling and continued to bandage up his face.

I was determined to patch up Filip without losing my cool. I caught Ortiz staring at us out of the corner of my eye, a strange look in his eyes. Filip was avidly trying to avoid looking at my face. The three of us were too wrapped up in ourselves to even notice the sound of motorcycles roaring down the street, coming closer to my house.

I had my hands on either side of the wide cut on Filip's face, gingerly attaching a bandage to hold the cut as close together as possible. There was a loud bang, as someone burst through my front door. I didn't have a chance to react to the intruder because I jumped at the sound, pulling the bandage out of place. Filip hissed with pain his right hand shooting forward, grabbing the area above my knee and squeezing. The shock of Filip's touch on my leg sent a shiver up my spine. I shook with the shiver and my breathing hitched. Filip's eyes widened at the sound of my breathing and turned to gaze at me. Our faces were inches apart, both of us breathing heavily.

"What's going on in here?" the intruder yelled.

Ortiz looked up, "Shit." Some food flew out of his mouth as he spoke.

I pulled back from Filip, straightening my back and turned to Ortiz, "You called the club?"

He shrugged, a sheepish look on his face. I rolled my eyes and found Jackson standing in my kitchen doorway.

He rounded on Ortiz, "What the hell Juice? When you called you made it sound like the house was about to go up in flames."

Ortiz struggled to swallow but finally managed, "I wasn't sure what was going to happen. After their argument this morning I thought they'd be at each other's throats again. Turns out I was wrong…"

Clay burst through the door a second later, to find the scene in the kitchen.

Jackson sighed and filled him in, "Juice here failed to inform us that the Scot and Lee had worked out their differences."

Clay rolled his eyes, "You brought us all the way out here for nothing?"

I smiled, laughing to myself, "Don't give the kid a hard time. We weren't exactly being civil to one another earlier in the day." I motioned between Filip and me, "When he called you, it was at a moment when neither of us knew what the outcome would be."

Clay eyed Filip, "Everything ok here, Scot?"

"Aye, everythins fine… Now." Filip answered.

I clapped my hands together, "Good. Now that everything's been sorted, are you two hungry?"

Clay declined, "Gem wouldn't forgive me if I missed dinner."

Jackson's eyes widened at the food on the table and pushed Ortiz over into the next chair. Clay shook his head in amusement and bid everyone farewell. I got up, regretting it as Filip's hand fell away from my leg. I grabbed another plate and some cutlery for Jackson. I handed him the supplies and he dug into the spread. I sat back down, thinking of something to say to Filip.

"I... Wanna finish bandaging those up?" I murmured.

Filip gave me a tight, lopsided grin, "Sure."

I blushed, unknowingly why and picked up the bandages again. I was quick to properly patch up his face, making sure that there was minimal body parts touching between the two of us. When I was finished I pushed my chair back to its original place at the table and stood up, cleaning up the mess I'd made with the medical supplies. I shuffled out of the kitchen, back into the bathroom, shoving all the supplies back in their proper places. As I shut the medicine cabinet door, I found myself staring back at me in the mirror. I was suddenly very aware of my appearance. I cringed realizing that I was covered in sweat, grease and flour. There was white flour strewn through my dark hair, making it look as though I was greying. My hair was flying in all different directions, even with the bobby pin 'holding' my bangs in place. I immediately tried to flatten my stray hairs but it was a losing battle. My face was slick with sweat and there were a few grease stains obviously showing on the cooking apron that I was wearing. I groaned, self-conscious and not prepared to walk back into the kitchen. I tried to work out an escape plan, that would allow me to avoid going back in there but at the same moment my stomach growled. I groaned I was starving and needed to eat the rest of my dinner. There was no getting out of this. I shook my head, praying some of the flour flew away, I wiped the backs of my hands across my face, hoping to get at least some sweat off of my face. I tried once again to flatten my hair but sighed as I walked back down the hallway into the kitchen.

When I walked into the room and sat down, all three boys paused to watch me before resuming their conversation. I blushed furiously with all their eyes on me and scurried over to my seat. I concentrated on my meal, trying to ignore the three men in my kitchen.


	4. Get Out

**A/N: Another chapter! This is starting to heat up between these two now. Some sexual tension and a frustrated room-mate. A little foreshadow for you: their pent-up rage ends up leading to some very interesting behaviour on their parts. Let me know what you think!**

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><p>The next few weeks had gone by quickly enough. I learned that living with the Scot was more trying than having him waste away in my spare bedroom. He wasn't a slob, by any means, but he definitely didn't clean up well enough to my standards. I was constantly finding his clothes lying around my living room, he never lined up his boots on the rack by the door and he piled up dishes in my sink, refusing to rinse or wash them.<p>

Ortiz was still a regular in the house. He didn't spend the nights anymore, but he always seemed to show up around dinnertime, begging like a puppy for food. I sympathized with Gemma a lot during the time Ortiz was around. I couldn't imagine what it was like to have all those boys depend on her as their 'mother'. I'd have to call her one day, to thank her for the silent job she had taken on.

Filip healed quickly. He'd taken to cleaning himself up and maintaining the bandages on his face without my help. At seeing his progress I decided that I could start going back to work again. He didn't need constant supervision anymore. I knew the restaurant was getting on fine without me, but I also knew that if I stretched my employees too far, the quality of food would start to suffer. None of them were as well versed in Creole and Cajun foods like I was. Shortly after I started going back to work, the Sons hired Filip as a mechanic down at TM. Between him and I both working, and his club business, there was a quiet that filled my house. A quiet that I thoroughly enjoyed, and missed. I began to wonder how long I would have to keep my spare room open for the untidy Scotsman.

I woke up to my alarm blaring on my side table. I groaned, flinging my arm out and smacking the snooze button. I sat up and rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes. Now that I was back at work, I had started getting up a little earlier than needed, hoping to get in the shower before Filip woke up. For a man, he took longer than most women did in the shower. If we kept up this morning battle, I was going to have to work out some kind of schedule with him to alleviate the morning stress.

I rolled my neck, working out any kinks I had and stretched my arms high over my head. I pushed the sheets off my body, swinging my legs to jump down off my bed. I stretched my legs a little, having been sore the last couple of days from standing in the kitchen all day. I needed to get my work out routine back on track. I couldn't keep putting it off. When I got a call for another job, I needed to be in tip top shape. I grabbed the towel hanging on the edge of my closet door, reaching for the knob to the bathroom. Before I had a chance to turn it, I heard the lock pushed into place. I widened my eyes, there was no way that Filip was up already. I glanced back at the clock, it was 7:30 in the morning. He didn't start work until at least 10.

I slammed my fist against the door, "Open up!"

I heard a dark chuckle and the shower turn on.

I let out a scream, "FILIP! Open this door right now!"

My scream was drowned out by the sound of running water. I was going to murder this man. End of story. I stalked out of my room, down the hall and into his. I reached his bathroom door and jiggled the handle. He'd locked his side too. Asshole! I kicked the door loudly, hoping that he could hear my frustration and walked back into my room. I threw myself back on my bed, lying face down like a starfish. I grumbled into the blankets, thinking of the worst possible ways that I could torture and kill the man who was ruining my life. Was it too much to ask to take a damn shower while the water was still hot?

Finally, after what felt like sixteen hours, I heard the faucets squeak and the water turn off. I rolled off the bed, stomping towards the door. I started banging my fists incessantly on the door, waiting for him to open it up. I heard the lock click and watched the knob turn slightly. I grabbed the knob, viciously turned it and burst through the door.

Without looking, I started yelling, "Ya did that on purpose! Ya woke up early just to spite me!"

My eyes focussed and I was staring at a completely naked Filip, retreating through the other door. I widened my eyes, unable to help but appreciate the view before me. I watched water droplets sneak down the strong rivets of his back muscles. The soft condensation shimmering on his backside was nothing less than radiant. I had to bite my lip, keeping in the gasp that was threatening to spill out. He was holding his towel loosely in his left hand, letting it hang down low to the ground. Some part of me was glad that he hadn't been facing me head on. If he had, I may not have been able to contain myself. I watched, mesmerized by his swagger, admiring the way the muscles in his ass contracted as he took each step. He must have noticed my silence because that chuckle returned. He shot me a smirk over his shoulder and I snapped out of my daze immediately. The fury rose inside me and I picked the nearest hard item to me; a bottle of lotion. I whipped the bottle across the bathroom, aiming directly for the middle of his back. He saw the movement and with a flick of his wrist slammed his door shut. I heaved in air, staring at the spot where the bottle had slammed against the door. I ground my teeth together, saving myself from the barrage of curses that sat on the edge of my tongue.

I stomped over to the door, pushing the lock in as savagely as I possibly could. I ripped the shower door open, turning the faucets on. I stood under the scolding hot water, letting it run over my body, helping to clear my mind. It wasn't working. I slammed my fists against the wall.

I shouted into the water, "Il va me faire devenir fou! [_He's going to make me go insane!_]"

I picked up my shampoo, pouring a nice portion into my palm. I rubbed my hands together and massaged the mixture into my hair. I stared into the fogged shower door, reliving the memory of Filip's body. _Why? Why was this man such a pain in my ass? Why was this man so utterly attractive that I couldn't keep a straight thought around him? WHY?!_ I continued to fall deeper into my despair, sighing with lust at the thought of his luscious bottom. Was the need to want to grab and squeeze it really necessary? I scolded myself internally, hating myself for being this attracted to him. I suddenly recalled the wedding band that he was wearing the first day he was here. My guilt intensified three-fold and I leaned back, smacking my head lightly against the wall. I'm a horrible person, openly ogling a married man… I let out an angry howl.

_Married, married, married, married, married, married…_

I repeated the words, over and over again. Internally and as a whisper. I sped through the rest of my shower, refusing to give myself even one second to let my mind wander. I rinsed the soap off and turned off the water. I got out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my body. I didn't bother to dry my hair, only wrung the excess water out. I went back into my room, grabbing clothes without really registering what I was taking. I went through the motions of getting dressed. I hung my towel up on the back of the bathroom door. I moved down the hallway, into my kitchen, opening the fridge to grab some yogurt. I could eat a real meal once I got to the restaurant. Right now I just needed to get out of the house before I ran back into my room, grabbed my gun and shot Filip… or myself. I didn't know who was making me crazier.

I finished up my yogurt, tossing the empty carton into the trash bin when Filip sauntered into the kitchen. I narrowed my eyes at him. He had a dirty grin plastered to his face. He was enjoying the frustration he was causing me. He moved over the fridge, standing beside me with his shoulder in my way. I stood up, knocking his shoulder with mine as I pushed past him. I snatched my purse and keys off the table and stormed out the front door.

Before it shut behind me I yelled, "Lock the door!"

He had better lock my damn door or there would be hell to pay when I got home. I hopped into my '65 Chevy Impala. At least I had an entire days' worth of work ahead of me. I had the chance to work through some of my frustrations before having to deal with the damn Scotsman again.

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><p>I pulled into my driveway, exhausted from my long day, to find three motorcycles in my driveway. I squinted, who the hell did he have over? It was my house dammit, not his fucking hotel! In an instant I was angry again, the progress I'd made be damned. I turned the ignition off, grabbed the large pot of gumbo I'd brought home with me and slammed the car door shut. I waddled up to the house, the pot was huge and very full. I struggled to open the front door. I had to balance my purse on top of the pot and tilt the pot ever so slightly to the right so that I could reach out and press down on the door handle. Finally after loudly struggling for a good three minutes I managed to push the door open. I stepped inside to find that no one had even bothered to get up and check who was at the door, never mind that that person may have needed help. I cursed under my breath, huffing loudly enough to gain the attention of the men in my living room. I ignored them and went to the kitchen, offloading the gumbo onto the stove. I tossed my purse across the room, not caring if it landed on the table or not. I heard the skid of my keys as they continued across the table after impact. I turned the stove on high. The gumbo was lukewarm and wouldn't be very appetizing if someone wanted to eat it right this second. I turned around to grab some bowls when I noticed the mess of my sink and counters. There were plates littered all over the counter, toppling over each other in the sink and beer bottles strewn across the island.<p>

"FILIP!" I screamed.

I could hear the conversation in the living room cease and some movement occur.

I grumbled to myself as I tossed around the dishes, "Il faut que tu sois putain te moques de moi! [_You've gotta be fucking kidding me!_]"

Footsteps came into the kitchen and I heard his familiar burr, "Aye?"

I snapped my face up, fire burning in my eyes, "Do ya see this?"

"See what?" he raised an eyebrow.

"The mess of this kitchen! Are there even any clean dishes?" I yelled. He tried to hide his smile and I shouted again, "It's not fuckin' funny!"

He took a step forward, "Yes it is."

I saw Tig and Ortiz pop their heads around the kitchen entrance watching the two of us.

"I'm not yer fuckin' maid, Filip." I seethed.

He shrugged, "Seems to me like ya are."

I dropped my mouth open. Did he really just say what I think he said? I caught the cringe that Ortiz made and the incredulous look on Tig's face as he watched the exchange between us.

"Excusez-moi?!" I screamed.

"No comprende." He mocked.

My nostrils flared. I picked up the closest empty glass to my hand and flung it at his head. I made sure to miss on purpose, and it smashed into pieces upon hitting the wall next to him. The glass exploded and the tiny pieces of glass were strewn around my kitchen.

"Ya missed." He noted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

I lunged forward at him, only to be intercepted by Tig who jumped between the two of us. Filip and I stared each other down, as Tig held my body still.

"Get out." I hissed.

Ortiz had inched into the room, staring wildly at the scene in front of him. Tig had heard what I advised the Scot to do.

Tig turned, "Come on brother. Let's go over to the clubhouse."

Once Tig's attention was away from me, I swung my arm around, my fist smashing into the side of the Scots face.

Tig groaned, "Oh fuck me…"

Both Ortiz and Tig jumped in, Ortiz grabbing me and Tig holding Filip back. Filip was yelling at me in another language, one that I'd never heard before. Tig was yelling over him to try to get him to calm down.

"Fuck ya!" I screamed around Ortiz, "Pack yer shit and get the fuck out of my house!"

I overcame Ortiz's hold on me and shoved Filip hard, my hands connecting with his chest. He stumbled backwards and Tig struggled to keep his hold on the man.

"Prospect!" Tig yelled, "A little help over here."

Ortiz straightened himself out and slid in front of me, blocking Filip's vision. Tig dragged the Scot out of the house, while Ortiz raced through all the rooms picking up the man's essentials. I gave Ortiz a full two minutes before I lost it again.

"Out! Get out!" I shrieked.

Ortiz shook, clearly terrified of me. He bolted out my front door. I slammed it shut, locking it in one smooth movement. I turned the TV in the living room off. I moved back into the kitchen, having lost my appetite, I turned the stove off and put the cover back on the pot of gumbo. I turned off all the lights behind me, slamming my bedroom door closed behind me and collapsing on my bed. I didn't bother getting undressed. I just laid completely still, on my bed revelling in the silence of my house. Good riddance, I thought to myself. I could sleep peacefully now, knowing that I no longer needed to take care of that ungrateful Scottish asshole.


	5. Decisions, Decisions

**A/N: Another chapter everyone! This one goes into a little more detail about what Lee does for living, besides cook. It also sheds a little light on what Filip is thinking. I figured I'd also add it how I think Filip got his nickname in the first place. Of course it would be Tig, am I right? Let me know what you think!**

**I also want to apologize for the language in this chapter. There's a lot of it.**

**Last thing: I wanted to just shout out to everyone following and favourite-ing (is this even a word?) the story. Thanks :) You make me want to keep on point and get more chapters out to you all as fast as I can possibly go! I have the whole story and plot line written out, just need to write out the detailed accounts!**

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><p>Filip tossed his stuff down on the empty clubhouse bed, massaging his jaw. Fucking bitch had a strong right hook. How did he not see that coming? He growled under his breath and stalked into the adjoining bathroom. He checked over his face, making sure that the stupid French chick hadn't reopened his healing cuts.<p>

"Dammit!" He shouted.

There was blood dripping down the side of his cheek where she'd clocked him. He reached for some toilet paper, wetting it with warm water and began wiping away the blood. While he was cleaning his face, he heard as someone knocked on the open door.

"Wha?" he grumbled, looking through the mirror to find Clay and Tig standing in the doorway.

Clay spoke up, "What happened?"

"Bitch hit me righ' in my chib." Filip grunted.

Tig raised an eyebrow, "Chib?"

Filip rolled his eyes, "Scar, or cut, whatever you want ta call 'em out here. She broke one of them open again."

Clay's eyes lightened a bit, "That's Lee for ya. Maybe we should've kept you here instead. Need any help patching it up?"

"No," Filip shrugged, turning back to the mirror.

He heard as Clay made his way back out of the room but was aware that Tig was still standing there.

"Can I help ya?" Filip asked, not bothering to look at Tig.

Tig smiled, "Nope, but chib… I like that. Would it make sense to say chibs?" He asked motioning to the scars on either side of Filip's face.

Filip looked through the mirror, an eyebrow raised, "Aye, it would. Why?"

Tig shrugged, "Like I said… I like it. Suits you."

Tig turned on his heel to leave the Scot alone. Filip stared at the empty doorway for a minute, trying to figure out what just happened. When he couldn't come up with and answer he returned to his newly opened wound.

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><p>I spent the next few days avoiding the club and anyone affiliated with it. I was tired and didn't have the patience to deal with any of them. When I woke up the day after I kicked Filip out, I called in to the restaurant and took the day off. I had a suspicious feeling that someone in the club might try to approach me there. At least while I was at home I could refuse to answer the door. I started with the kitchen first, scrubbing it from top to bottom. I needed to get any memory of that bastard out of my house. I cleaned out the fridge, collecting all the beer bottles, that hadn't been touched yet and piled them into a box. I'm sure I could find someone at work that would take the free booze. Once I had all the dishes, floor and counters spotless, I felt like I could breath again. Things were slowly looking up.<p>

Next, from the kitchen, I started in the living room. I vacuumed, dusted and wiped everything down. I continued cleaning the day away, into the late evening. I cleaned every room except for one. I was still too angry to even bother opening the door to my spare room. Filip didn't have many material items, but of what he did have I didn't trust myself enough not to destroy them. I knew that in the state of mind I was in, I would end up being vindictive and I didn't want to stoop that low. I wasn't some run of the mill bitch. I left the spare room door shut tightly and left the contents in that room alone. I even went as far as to keep the shared bathroom door shut and locked, so not to tempt myself.

I went back to work the next day, feeling a bit lighter than the day before. My life was back in my control, no more unwanted feelings for a man that was rude and ungrateful, no more stupid biker gang using my house as a revolving door, and no more men eating me out of house and home. I spent my day back in the kitchen at work humming. I was in a good mood. My mood never once faltered, not even when Jackson and Opie came into the restaurant around lunchtime. It was clear they wanted to speak with me but I happily ignored both of them and kept myself hidden in the kitchen. They left shortly after coming in with an order large enough for ten other people. They must have ordered lunch for everyone at TM.

I stayed late at the restaurant that night, catching up on inventory and making fresh beignets for the breakfast rush. I felt like bringing one of my favourite morning treats from down home to the rest of Charming. I didn't make beignets often, because they were a lot of work, and I didn't always have the patience to make them. It was better to keep these as a special menu item; it always brought the customers in asking about them. I was always surprised at how well the restaurant did in this small town. The entire town was wary of outsiders but when I opened up shop, people flocked to my door. Apparently this down loved New Orléans cuisine.

I finished taking a detailed list of all the ingredients we were running low on and focussed all my attention on the beignets. Once I had made a decent amount, I let the oil drain from the deep fried donuts, and set out to make the toppings. I filled one of my sifters with powdered sugar, the traditional addition to beignets. I also enjoyed adding my own flare into recipes and I mixed white sugar with equal parts cinnamon for an alternate topping for the donuts. I wrote out detailed instructions for Louis, who I had scheduled to open the place in the morning. He had served these before, but I always liked to make sure that there was little room for error. I left the instructions out, taped to the freezer door. He'd be able to see them, and find them in the freezer quick and easy. I closed up shop, cleaning up my tools, wiping all counters and shutting off the lights. I made it back home around 1:30 in the morning.

Once I was home, I bee lined for my room, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep the night away. I stripped out of my dirty clothes and pulled on a pair of flannel shorts and a tank top. I snuggled under the covers and was asleep the second my head hit my pillow.

A few hours later, I was wide-awake and staring at the bathroom door. For some reason I was restless. I turned over to check the time and my clock blinked 4:30 AM at me. I sighed, cocooning the sheets around me. I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep to come back but none came. While I lay there, keeping my mind blank, I heard a quiet buzzing from the inside of my side table. Strange… I hardly ever got any calls to my pre-pay. Must be someone offering up a job. I reached over, pulling the drawer open and picked up the flip phone. I cleared my throat before answering.

"Evangeline." I answered.

"Lee? Its Hap," the gruff voice on the other end asked.

Why was Happy calling me? He shouldn't need my help; especially with the reputation he already had in place.

"What's up?" I asked.

I heard murmurs in the background but he answered, "A hit came up, thought you'd be interested."

"Why aren't ya dealin' with it?" I questioned. I was feeling unnerved that I was getting this call from the Tacoma charter so close after the incident with Filip. What were they playing at?

"Don't want any blow back on the club." He curtly answered.

"Club business or actual listing? If this is club business, I'm out. Ya can deal with it yerself." I responded.

He let out a bark of laughter, "Not like that. It's a real listing."

"Send it to me. I'll call ya back with my answer." I concluded.

"Sounds good." Happy hung up.

I tumbled out of bed and rummaged through the second drawer of my dresser. I pulled out one of my many laptops and flipped it open on the top of the dresser. I logged in to my neutral email account and pulled up the listing Happy sent. I read through the specs. It was a run of the mill hit. No special requests. I checked the reward number. Five hundred grand, low number. It would be the lowest paying job I'd done in a long time, but it was something. At least I could get out of the house, enjoy a long ride and get paid for it at the same time. I checked the timeline, there wasn't one in particular, just to have the hit done as soon as possible. I could do that. I picked up the pre-pay and dialled Happy's number.

"I'll take it." I spoke before he had a chance to say anything.

I could hear the smile in his voice, "Good."

"Club need it done in a specific time?" I asked.

"No, same as the listing, ASAP." He answered.

I nodded, "Alright. I'll be out first thing in the morning. Want me to check in with you first or just do the hit?"

He thought for a minute, "Do the hit. If we need to meet, we can do it after."

"Alright. Thanks Hap." I stated.

"No problem Lee." Hap hung up the phone.

I crawled back into bed, praying or a few more hours' sleep before I needed to drive up to Tacoma.

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><p>Clay was sitting outside the clubhouse, on the picnic bench enjoying a cigarette when his pre-pay rang. That was odd; all the boys were either in the clubhouse or working in the garage. Who could be calling him?<p>

"Yea." Clay answered.

"It's Lee," Lee started, "Listen, I'm gonna be out-of-town for a few days. I figured I'd give y'all the chance to go in and pack up the remainda of Filip's things. I'll be back on Saturday. I expect his shit ta be cleared out by then. Yea?"

Clay widened his eyes, "Where're you going?"

Lee scoffed, "That's none of yer business. Clean out the Scot's shit while I'm gone and we're good. If there's one thing out-of-place when I get back, y'all are gonna have hell ta pay."

Clay shook his head, "Alright. It'll be done."

He heard Lee hang up her phone and he did the same. Jackson saw the confused look on Clay's face and walked over.

"What's going on?" Jackson asked.

Clay took a long drag from his cigarette, "Heard from Lee."

"What? Really? What'd she say?" Jackson urged.

"She wants us to go in and pack up the rest of Chibs' shit." Clay repeated Lee's words.

Jackson narrowed his eyes, "Where is she?"

Clay shrugged, "Wouldn't say. All she told me was that she's going out-of-town. Be back on Saturday."

Two things interrupted their conversation, Chibs had walked outside, asking for a light and Jackson's phone rang. Clay handed Chibs a lighter while Jackson answered his phone.

"Hit's been dealt with." Happy informed.

Jackson nodded, "Perfect. Done already?

Happy answered, "No but we have someone on the way to take care of it."

Jackson narrowed his eyes, "Who? Why aren't you doing it?"

"No blow back on the club and Lee is coming up to do it." Happy answered.

Jackson dropped his smoke, "What… Who did you just say?"

"Lee, as in Evangeline. The chick that lives in Charming, you guys know her pretty well…" Happy dragged on.

"Oh shit." Jackson swore, "Keep an eye on her. She's pretty pissed at us right now. Make sure she doesn't do anything to mess up this hit."

Happy groaned, "Why didn't you let me know. You had to have known we'd call her when the hit went official."

Jax rolled his eyes, "I didn't even think of it. Sorry brother."

Happy sighed, "Don't worry about it. I'll keep a lookout on her. See that everything is done professionally."

They both hung up and Clay looked to Jax expectantly.

Jackson let out a huff of air, "Lee took the hit. She's on her way to Tacoma now."

Chibs froze mid drag, "What hit? Lee, as in the one who punched me?"

Clay groaned, "We could be seriously fucked. Does she know that the club wants that guy dead too?"

Jax shook his head, "Happy didn't say. He just said that Lee took the job. He promised to keep someone on her, make sure she doesn't do anything to compromise us and SAMTAC."

Chibs raised an eyebrow, "I thought she ran tha restaurant down tha street. What's it called again?"

"The Big Easy?" Tig came walking up, having caught the last question in the conversation.

Chibs pointed at Tig, nodding, "That's it. Why would she be driving up ta Tacoma ta do a hit?"

Tig widened his eyes, as he spun to face Clay and Jackson, "What?"

Clay and Jackson groaned.

Clay addressed Chibs, "Long story short, Lee is a hit man. The restaurant is just what she does in her spare time."

Chibs' mouth dropped open, "Ya… Ya left me in the care of a bloody fuckin' enforcer?"

All three of the men shrugged. Chibs walked away, only to turn right back around and stare at them. He was shocked… He was new to the country, having been kicked out of Ireland and his so-called brothers left him with a fucking murderer. Where were their heads at? He didn't even have words; he was speechless.

"She's really sweet… You know… When she's not mad…" Jax defended.

Chibs threw his hands in the air. He couldn't process the information they'd just given him. He walked straight over to the boxing ring and equipment. He wrapped his hands and began punching away at the bag in the corner. He was torn between being impressed, at learning what she did for a living and utterly pissed at his 'brothers' for leaving him with her in the first place.

Since she kicked him out, he'd been doing everything in his power to rid the memory of her from his mind. He needed to get those piercing emerald eyes, that slender yet curvaceous body, those light rouge plump lips, her tanned and golden skin, the long wild and wavy dark hair and that ass that could make any man stop dead in his tracks; out of his mind. He'd just lost his wife, his only daughter and his home but all he could think about was the woman that was abrasive and rude. Why couldn't he get her out of his head? And now… now he learns that she kills people for a living… Could there be anyone more perfect for him in the world? Was this God tempting him while he was estranged and separated from his wife? He was a Catholic man, was God trying to get him to prove his faith? Not that his wife had done the same for him…

He stopped hitting the punching bag, grabbing it to hold it still. He stared at the logo, 'Everlast' on the side for a very long moment. He nodded, deciding that he was going to drown himself in pussy and booze. Seemed to be the only logical decision.


	6. Broken Down

**A/N: I apologize in advance for the cliff hanger, but rest assured, the next chapter is a good one :) Let me know what you think. **

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><p>I made it back to Charming late Saturday night. I had a weird time in Tacoma. SAMTAC had eyes on me the entire time, I figured it had to do with SAMCRO worried about how I'd preform. Not that it was really any of their concern. I wasn't doing this job for them, or for SAMTAC. It was a legit listing and I had taken it based on that fact. I told Happy that if it was just club business I couldn't be bothered. I knew that none of the charters had enough money to pull together a base fee of 250 grand for me to do a job; it was why I never dealt with them. I also found that they were all a bunch of loose canons, shooting their guns off whenever someone slighted them in the tiniest way.<p>

I was glad to be home. My back was sore from sleeping in motel rooms, and my backseat. I walked through the door and my place looked virtually untouched. I scrutinized as much as I could in the dim lighting, too tired to go over anything with a fine-toothed comb. I did however notice that the spare room door was still tightly closed. I paused in front of it, my hand twitching on the handle. I shook my head; I'd deal with everything in the morning. I needed a good night's sleep. I pivoted away from the door and continued on into my room, kicking the door closed behind me.

I spent the week avoiding my spare room. I still hadn't opened the door to see if they cleared out his stuff. The house was the exact same from when I left it, so I had a hard time deciding if the club had been by at all. I wasn't entirely sure why I couldn't bring myself to open up the door. It was almost like I didn't want the Scot to be gone. I eerily felt more alone than I had in a long time. I was used to being alone and I couldn't figure why the panic inside me built every time I was near that door. I hadn't even had a glimpse of any of the club members now that I was back. I heard the motorcycles driving around, but if I was near a window, I never saw one.

Friday rolled around quickly. I had been immersed in the restaurant all week and was thankful I had booked the weekend off for myself. I normally would work seven days a week, but this week was different. This week I needed the break. I left the restaurant around ten, leaving Louis and Candace in charge. They'd be the ones to close up once the last of the patrons had finished their meals. I drove home, the windows down and the music playing loudly. I took my time, in no particular rush to get home. Once I did pull into the driveway, the darkened windows saddened me. I couldn't believe I was thinking this, but I missed the days when I would come home late and see the flicker of the TV through the front window. Oddly enough I missed the Scottish bastard. As much as he drove me crazy, I enjoyed the extra warm body in the house. I was starting to think I needed a pet. Maybe I could go out and get myself a dog.

I stripped out of my clothes and filled my bathtub with hot water, letting the bubbles fill up the remaining space where the water stopped. I inched down, my hands on the side of the tub and dunked my head backwards, submerging all my hair. I sunk deeper into the water, letting it engulf me. I smiled, letting my muscles relax in the warm water. Once the water-cooled, I finished cleaning the grease off and relaxed enough that my muscles felt brand new. I climbed out of the tub, grabbing my towel off the counter and wrapped it around my body. I pulled another towel off the rack of the wall and sopped up the excess water from my hair. I let my hair down and air dry. I decided to leave it down and let my natural wave take over.

I glanced over at the other door, the one that led into my spare room. I found the courage to finally open the door and gazed at the dark room. I flicked on the switch and shielded my eyes from the bright overhead light. The room was completely empty. There was no sign that the Scot had ever been in here. I moved about the room, a little numb. I lifted the pillows, opened drawers and peered under the bed. Nothing. The room was completely bare. I pushed the closet door open and found one lone item hanging on a hanger. My heart jumped, excited at the idea that he'd left something behind. I reached out and tugged it off the hanger. It was his old cut, the SAMBEL one. I laid it on the bed, tracing a finger over the reaper on the back. The nice thing to do would be to return it, but it was too late to do that tonight. Maybe I could go over tomorrow, see if he was working. At least see the man one last time, I did owe him an apology from our last encounter.

I went back to my bedroom and started pulling out my pjs. I dropped the towel, attempting to pull on my shorts when I realized that it was Friday night. SAMCRO always threw their parties on Friday nights, didn't they? Yes! Yes, they did. A smile broke across my face and I dropped my shorts. I bounded back to my closet, looking for something remotely nice to wear. I settled on ripped jeans, a flowing white tank and wedge sandals. I would stand out against the crow eaters, but that was fine by me. I didn't want to blend in with the local sluts. I skipped to the bathroom, my hair was nowhere near dry, but if I drove with the windows down, I wouldn't have to worry about that when I got to the clubhouse. I applied minimal make up, mascara, a little top eyeliner and a light peach coloured lip-gloss. I turned the light off, walking into the spare room. I picked up the forgotten cut and made my way out to my car. I didn't bother bringing anything other than my wallet, keys and the cut. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was disappointed in myself, I had let the Scot get to me, but at the same time, I wasn't sure that I cared. I could be nice, and I could be civil. Now was the time to show that side of me.

I rolled up into TM's parking lot and saw that the party was raging. There were club members everywhere, SAMCRO, Nomads and even some boy from other charters. I pulled into the nearest spot I could find and picked up the cut. Upon my initial scan, I couldn't see Filip anywhere. I didn't really see anyone I knew so I kept walking, pushing the door into the clubhouse open.

The music was louder in here, than it was outside and the smoke filled my lungs. I coughed a little, not being a smoker myself. I scanned the room and spotted Jackson first. He was leaning against the bar, talking to a blonde with long beach waved hair. She was pretty, but it was obvious she was a crow eater. I tapped Jackson on the shoulder and he turned. His eyes widen slightly but there was a smile on his face.

"Hey Jackson." I greeted.

His smile grew, "Lee! What're you doing here?"

I shrugged, "I was home, bored and remembered y'all throw these parties every Friday."

Jackson nodded, then turned the girl with him, "I'll talk to you later, darlin'."

He bent forward, kissing her on the cheek and turned back to me. He motioned for the bartender to come over and asked, "What are you drinking?"

I waved him off, "Nothing. Don't worry 'bout me."

"Nonsense," Jax shouted, "Get this lady a shot of something strong!"

At Jackson's outburst a few other members turned and stared at us. I could see the smiles start to form as Opie and Tig made their way over.

Opie pulled me into a one armed hug, "Lee! It's good to see you. How've you been."

I smiled, "Alright, I guess. You?"

"Always good, always good. Donna's been asking about you lately." He commented.

I laughed, "Tell her to come by the restaurant. I seem to be spending all my time there lately."

"You came on the perfect night." Tig mentioned.

I turned to him, "Why's that?" All three of them smiled eerily at me. I tilted my head and backed away from them, "Why are y'all bein' so weird."

Tig chuckled, "It's Chibs' patch over party tonight."

I gave a half-hearted smile, "Good for Chibs… Who's Chibs?"

They all burst into laughter, but Jackson managed to explain, "Chibs is the Scot. You know, Filip. "

I furrowed m brows, "Chibs? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Tig smacked me on the back, "Ask him, I'm sure he'd love to tell you." He pointed over to the couch, where Filip was sitting with a crow eater in his lap.

I rolled my eyes. Of course he'd be in deep with those girls. I gripped the leather cut in my hand and steeled my nerves. The least I could do was apologize. I took a deep breath, walking over to where he sat.

"Sorry to interrupt." I bent lower, so he could hear me.

Both him and the dark-haired crow eater looked up at me. The crow was wide-eyed, probably a new girl. Filip's eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

I held up a hand in surrender, "Can we talk for a minute?"

The crow eater whined, "Tell her to go away Chibs."

"What are ya doin' here?" Filip spit out.

His tone caught the crow eater's attention and she eyed me warily.

"I just want ta talk. That's all." I insisted.

Filip turned away from me, "Fuck off."

The crow eater was happy, leaning forward and kissing him on the mouth.

"Ugh." I groaned.

She turned back to me, "Got a problem?"

I shook my head, "Nope. None at all."

Filip grabbed her face, pulling it back to his, "Don't worry 'bout her darlin'. She's just jealous."

I burst into laughter, "That's rich." I stood back up to my full height, backing away, "I was just going ta give ya back yer cut. The one ya _left_ at my house."

The crow eater looked crushed, as I emphasized that he'd left it at my house. Filip rubbed his jaw, the same one that I had punched a week ago. There wasn't a bruise or anything but I did see that there was a fresh bandage on it. The crow eater was smarter than I thought and she rounded on me.

"You're the one that hit Chibs?" She accused.

"Hey sweetie, this doesn't concern ya. When he needs his dick sucked, then ya can talk." I retorted.

"You bitch!" she yelled and reached out to smack me.

I grabbed her hand, "I'd watch yerself around me. Ya don't want me on yer bad side."

Filip stood up, knocking the girl's wrist out of my hold and gripped around my upper arm. He pulled me off to the side before I ripped my arm away from him.

"Don't ya dare grab me," I said, my voice dripping in venom.

"Why are ya here?" Filip asked again.

I rolled my eyes, lifting the cut in my hand, "I already told ya. To return yer cut."

He cut me off before I could continue, "Ah, tha good maid came ta make sure all was well."

My words jumbled over his, "and ta apologize for my behaviour." I paused for a second, registering what he had said, "On second thought. Scratch that last part."

I cocked my hand back, slapping him square across the face. His face shot sideways with force, his hair falling into his eyes. He raised a hand to his cheek to rub the sting away, and I could see my red hand print starting to form. The sound was loud enough to be heard over the sound of the music and the entire clubhouse was staring at the two of us.

"Fuck ya." I smiled, gritting my teeth.

I dropped his cut on to the ground, and made sure to step on it, leaving a large footprint of my heel on it. I walked out of the clubhouse, all eyes on me, my head held high and a smile spread across my face. I raced to my car, beyond pissed. I shoved my keys into the ignition and sped out of the there like a demon out of hell.

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><p>"Chibs, brother, you alright." Opie was the closest to him after Lee had smacked him.<p>

There was fire burning in his eyes, he could feel the heat coursing through his veins. He blinked a few times, clearing his vision.

"Bitch just hit me again." He mumbled.

Jackson rushed over, "Sorry brother. She was in a good mood when she showed up. We didn't know that she'd react like that."

Filip bent down, snatching up his cut off the ground. He shouldered past everyone, even the crow eater he'd been spending time with and stalked off to his room. He slammed the door shut behind, signalling to everyone he didn't want to be bothered. This was supposed to be his night, his patch over party. Things were supposed to go his way. Not be interrupted and ruined by that woman. He paced his room, tossing the old SAMBEL cut on to the floor, stomping over it as he paced.

He had left it there on purpose, a memoire from his past that he didn't want to be reminded of. All he wanted to do was move on with his life, forget the one he had started in Ireland. He groaned, pulling at his hair. He dropped down on to the edge of his bed, head hanging in his hands. He rubbed his hands down his face, thinking about what he wanted to do.

He couldn't just let this woman barge into his life, set everything a flame and then walk out. She'd hit him twice. No woman had ever hit him, and he didn't like it. He wasn't a violent man, not when it came to women, but this one in particular made him see red. She was headstrong, doing what she wanted, when she wanted. Not even he had the privilege to do that, and he'd been living a similar life to hers.

He pat his pockets, checking for his keys and wallet. He shot up, ripping his door open, pushing through the crowd of people desperately calling for his attention. He bounded out the clubhouse door, down the driveway and straddled his bike. He fastened the helmet, turned the keys in the ignition and the bike roared to life. He backed out, ignoring the shouts of his brothers, and sped off, down the driveway and out onto the main street.

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><p>I turned the lamp on the table in my living room on and sank into the couch. I couldn't believe that just an hour earlier I had missed that arrogant bastard. I put myself out of my comfort zone, wanting to apologize, but was treated with nothing but disdain. I bent forward, opening all the drawers in my coffee table, hoping that I had a little herb left over somewhere. I didn't smoke cigarettes, never did, but on occasion I enjoyed a nice toke of something a little stronger. I never made it a habit, I preferred to be in my right mind, unfazed, but during times like these, when I couldn't keep my head from spinning, I would roll up a joint and smoked until I was ready to sleep it off.<p>

I found some papers, a nugget of weed and a few other items of paraphernalia in one of the bottom most drawers. I spread everything out on to the table, and began breaking up the weed in my hands. In the near distance, I could hear the roar of a motorcycle and I prayed that it wasn't coming to my house. I knew that I had committed the worst felony known to the club. I disrespected the leather, the cut. They all hated me now, no doubt, but I couldn't be bothered. If they chose to come knocking on my door, I'd be ready for them. I reached under the couch and pulled out the two pistols I had stashed under there. I laid them both out on the table, prepared for the worst to happen.

By the time the motorcycle had gotten to my house, and pulled into my driveway, I had finished rolling my joint and was just leaning back to spark it up. I tilted my head, listening intently to the silence. I heard footsteps trudge up to my front door and heavy fists beat against it.

"Fuck off!" I yelled, warning the stranger to go away.

The barrage against my door didn't stop, and was now accompanied by a gruff voice, "Open tha door!"

I ignored whoever it was and inhaled the smoke of my joint deeply.

"Lee! Lee! Evangeline! Eva!" this person yelled.

I lifted an eyebrow to myself, who was Eva? That was a definitely a new one.

"Open tha god damned door, Eva!" the man continued to demand.

I recognized the accent now, groaning internally. The fucking Scot was at my front door. Any chance that I might've opened that door had now blown right out the window. Finally his fists stopped hitting the door and it was quiet. I smiled to myself; he'd gotten the picture. I took another drag of the joint when my front door came crashing in. I choked on the smoke and dropped the joint into the table.

"What the hell!" I screamed.

Filip had kicked down my door and barged into my house. I jumped up from my spot on the couch, reaching for my pistol, but Filip was faster. He was across the threshold and pulling me away from the couch before I could get my fingers gripped around the gun. He smashed me up against the wall.

"What do ya think yer doin?" I gasped, the force he thrust me against the wall made all the air in my lungs disappear.

"Shut up." He growled.


	7. Addicted to You

**WARNING: Smut alert. If you don't like it, skip this chapter, or don't read it!**

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><p>His lips came crushing down onto mine in the next second. He kissed me roughly. There was nothing romantic about it. It felt like he was trying to assert his dominance over me. I fought against him, his hands constricted around my upper arms, keeping me firm against the wall. I thrashed from side to side, trying to break away from his lips. This only made him kiss me harder, pushing me further into the wall, all my muscles protesting. His tongue flashed out, licking along my bottom lip. When it retreated back into his mouth, I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and bit down hard; hard enough to draw blood. He swore pulling away from me.<p>

I narrowed my eyes at him, "What the hell are ya doin', Filip?"

He grinned devilishly, "I told ya ta shut up."

He leaned back in, his lips capturing mine once again. There was less anger in this kiss, but the urgency was still there. I struggled to keep myself standing, he was a few inches taller than me and where he was holding me my tiptoes were barely grazing the floor. He released his death grip on my arms; letting his hands skim down my bare arms, resting at my wrists. He tightened his hold there and dragged my arms high above my head, his hands holding my wrists in place. I gave in a little, kissing him back. I heard the groan he let out and I smirked into his mouth. I gained some momentum and hopped up, spreading my legs and curling them around Filip's hips. I had no idea what was going on, but I'd be lying if my body and mind weren't racing with lust and adrenaline.

I pulled him in, closer to my body and ground against him. His body went limp for a second, his breathing paused and his hold on my wrists slackened. I severely enjoyed the reaction I had over him in this moment. I let out a low giggle, and that brought him back to me. Our lips came back together, both of us fighting for dominance. He may have started this on top, but I planned on ending this in the lead. He connected my wrists together, using one hand to hold them, while his other drifted down, gently gripping around my neck. He squeezed causing me to gasp and tighten my legs around him. His face dipped away from mine, running his lips along my jaw, down the side of my throat and across my collarbone. My body reacted on its own accord and my hips rolled into his. I let out a small groan, wanting more. I felt his teeth graze my bone. I sighed, my head lolling to the side. His hand descended lower, attentive to my every curve. He cupped a breast, massaging. I bit down on my lip to save another sound from escaping. My back arched, our groins pressed against each other. I was ready; I wanted him. Without warning, he dropped his hand, between my legs and cupped my center. He kneaded the outside of my jeans, causing me to grind against his hand harder.

"Filip…" I whimpered.

I had no control over my hands. I tried pushing them forward, desperate to have my hands on him, but he held them steady. I let out an exasperated noise. He smirked, relishing in my struggle. He lifted his hand away from me and I groaned in protest. He pushed his body closer to mine, plastering me against the wall. He poked his lower body backwards, his hand swiftly undoing my jeans. He tugged on the fabric while I wiggled to help ease them off my body. He ripped them from my feet and threw them recklessly over his shoulder.

"Pants. Off." I whispered.

He complied, unclasping his belt, slipping his boots off and letting his pants fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them, pushing the heap away from his feet. I dug my heels into his sides, pushing them down hard, managing to get his boxers down to his knees where they fell willingly away. I spared a glance down. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight of him. He was larger than I could ever imagine. My legs went back up to his hips, tightening and pulling him closer. His hand gripped my hip. I could feel the cool metal of his rings on my skin. He dipped his hand again, running a finger along my core. I squirmed, loving the feeling.

He groaned, "Already wet for me, lass."

Our mouths connected again. This time I was the first one to plunge my tongue into his mouth. I put all my energy into our kiss. I arched my body towards his as he slipped two fingers inside me. Our tongues danced against each other, his hand moving in rhythm our mouths. I inched one leg around, and placed it flat on his abdomen.

I kicked his arm away from me, moaning, "I want you."

His hand pulled my hip forward and he thrust himself into me. The sound that came out of my throat was a perfect mix of a whimper and moan. He pulled himself out, slowly.

He paused, only his tip inside me, "Say my name."

He stared into my eyes, as he thrust forcibly in. My muscles contracted around him and I cried out, his name falling from my lips. He burrowed his head in the crook of my neck and continued at his agonizingly slow pace. Each thrust stronger than the last. I could feel his heavy breaths flutter across my skin. I used my legs to coax his pace faster. I threw my head back, mouth open, gasping for air. His movements quickened to an erratic pace and his hold on my wrists released. I smirked, now was my chance.

I pushed him away from me, down to the ground. We stumbled over each other, landing on my living room floor with a thud. I pinned his arms down, straddling his body, but refusing to let him back in. I used his arms as leverage, popping myself upwards. I rubbed myself against him, watching as his eyes darkened. His hands flew to my hips, aiding me. I propped up slightly, grabbing him and positioning him at my entrance. I pushed down on him, his fingers dug into my sides, guiding my movements. I crossed my arms, grabbing the thin material of my shirt shimmying it up and over my head. My body continued to roll into his, our noises growing louder. I stared down at him, watching as his eyes followed the movement of our connecting bodies.

I reached behind me to unclasp my bra, but Filip was quick to switch his attention. He sat up abruptly, his hands reaching the clasp before mine and he tossed my bra away. I chuckled, low and breathy. Our movements were stilled while he buried his face into my cleavage. His tongue skirted out, licking a thin line up through my cleavage. I entangled my fingers into his hair and hauled his head backwards. I held his face inches away from my breasts, angled up so I was looking down at him. I grinned, forcing myself lower onto him. He rolled his eyes back, his hips bucking against mine, meeting me thrust for thrust. He held my waist in place, both our movements becoming too erratic to keep straight.

I felt my core tighten, heat coursing through my veins. I pulled on his hair, moaning freely with my orgasm. He followed close behind me, letting out a strangled grunt as his release took a hold of him. Breathing heavily, we fell away from each other, onto the floor. We laid there, catching our breath, silent. I sighed, stretching my arms out, the weed in my system causing my eyes to droop. Filip sat up, pulling his cut and shirt off, dropping them on the floor beside him. He reached across me, to the coffee table, picking up the almost completely burned joint. He smoked the rest of it, before putting it out. He laid back down, an arm under his head.

We both promptly fell asleep, my front door wide open, welcoming anyone to walk in on our intimate moment.

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><p>I was woken up by a faint buzzing sound. I went to lift my head, wondering where the sound was coming from but found myself entangled with another person's body. The body was warm and holding me close. Our legs were intermingled and there was an arm loosely draped across my shoulder. My face was flush against a bare chest. It took my a minute to recollect the previous night, but once I did remember, I wasn't mad. Or maybe I was too tired to care. Either way I was settled to fall back asleep again; Filip's body warming me. However, my plans were interrupted by that buzzing again.<p>

I nudged Filip. He grunted in response.

"Your phone." I croaked.

He groaned, patting around for his pants. He found them, reaching down into his pocket and pulled his burner out.

"Yea." He grunted into the receiver.

I took this time to gaze down at the firm abs just below my cheek. I chanced turning my head upwards, and saw the name 'Kerrianne' tattooed over his heart. I assumed that was his wife's name. I fought off the cringe building within me. I just had sex with a married man… What was wrong with me? I groaned internally and pushed myself up. My hair fell down my back, covering most of my nakedness. I groped around, locating my booty short underwear and my tank top. I slipped the minimal clothes on and stood up. I stepped over Filip and entered my kitchen.

I grabbed a cup, turning my tap on, fingers under the running water until it was cold. I filled the glass up and gulped down the refreshing liquid. I turned the tap off and could still hear Filip's gruff undertone speaking. I ran a hand through my hair, flipping it all to one side. I closed my eyes, thinking about what time it was. I turned to look out my kitchen window, the sun was only just coming over the horizon. It was too early to be up, that much was clear. I downed the rest of my drink. I placed the glass in the sink, turning to see Filip standing fully dressed in my doorway.

"Club business?" I asked.

He nodded, "Aye."

I nodded, pushing away from the counter, ready to make my way to my bed; sleep the rest of the morning off. Filip stood still, silently watching as I crossed the kitchen. I didn't expect him hang around, those boys were loyal to their club. When they called, they went. Also, we weren't entirely on the best of terms. Before I made it to him and the doorway, he came forward. His hands grazed up from my thighs, to my ribs, under my breasts and back down, gripping on to my backside. I raised an eyebrow at him, confused, but the shock waves from his touch still flowed through me. He squeezed and planted a rough kiss on my mouth. I let out a breath that I was unaware that I had been holding in. I matched his kiss with equal roughness, my hands landing on his shoulders. All too quickly it ended and he pulled away.

He backed away, making his way to the front door. I followed after him, waiting in the hallway. We both examined the door while he walked out.

I called out, softly, "You owe me a door."

He nodded, turning back to me, "Aye. I'll get it fixed."

I watched him move down my front walkway and mount his bike. After he started up his bike, I shut the front door, pulling my shoe rack forward to hold the door in place. Both the lock and the latch were stripped. The door would swing open if I didn't have something sitting in front of it. I steadied the rack. When I was confident the door wouldn't fly open unannounced, I went to bed. Ready to sleep for a few more hours.

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><p>I stood on my front porch, sipping at my coffee, watching the locksmiths at work. Filip came through on his promise. The Monday after our little encounter, two locksmiths knocked on my door, ready to get to work. I wasn't due to be at the restaurant until around lunch time, so I hung around making sure the job was done right.<p>

I heard the distinct sound of a truck cruising down the street. I looked up from my coffee cup, to see the TM tow truck driving by slowly. The truck slowed to a stop in front of my house, and out jumped Jackson and Filip. I turned my attention back to the men working on my door when the two Sons approached me.

"What brings ya around?" I asked, nonchalantly.

Jackson shrugged, pointing a few houses down, "Repo job."

I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee.

Jackson eyed the locksmiths, "What happened here?"

Filip and I made eye contact. He didn't say anything. Two things were clear to me. He accompanied Jax on this job, to check that the locksmiths had indeed come by, and that he hadn't told anyone where he went on Friday night.

I blinked, "I pissed someone off."

"Seriously?" Jackson laughed.

I saw the glimmer of a smile on Filip's face.

I shrugged, "Yea… they felt the need ta kick in ma door."

Jackson shook his head in laughter, "You really know how to make friends, don't you?"

"What can I say? I'm just that lovable." I joked.

Filip's smile became more pronounced, and I fought to keep a straight face. Being in his company again was making me giddy. The three of us stood in silence for a moment before Jax changed the subject.

"We better be off." He stated.

Filip nodded, agreeing with him, "Aye."

I waved them off, "Have fun taking people's cars away from them."

Jax gave me a side grin as they both walked down my driveway and back into the truck. I watched the truck drive away but was interrupted by one of the men working on my door.

"Everything's all fixed, ma'am." He confirmed.

I tried not to cringe at the word ma'am, "Thanks. How much do I owe ya?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. It's all been paid for."

"Oh. Well thanks." I smiled, glancing down the road to where Jackson and Filip were hoisting up some car.

The two locksmiths started to leave when the one I was just talking too stopped, he dug for something in his pocket and then held it out to me.

"The new keys. There's a spare key if you need it." He dropped the keys into my outstretched hand and left.

I couldn't help but smile. I was staring down the street, in a daze, watching Filip secure the car to the bed of the truck. We didn't get along, nowhere close to it, but it was warming to learn that the man wasn't a complete jerk. Maybe he only paid because he was the one who broke the lock in the first place, but it was still something. I considered this progress. Progress towards what… I didn't know, but it was happening.

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><p><strong>AN: Here we go! Thing's are starting to change... or are they? **


	8. Quiet Place to Sleep

**A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter. My real life got in the way and I had to sit on this one for a little bit. I also managed to break my laptop so I'll be a little long with other chapters as well. Hope the content below makes up for that delay :) Let me know what you think!**

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><p>Charming had been quiet for the last week. The war between the Mayans and SAMCRO seemed to be at a standstill. Filip was enjoying the life he had going here in the USA. He was making better money than before, and spending it on whatever he wanted. He'd even started up a private savings account, hoping to one day give that money to his daughter, Kerrianne. He was carefree, had a new family he could count on, and all the booze and women he could ever want. There was just one thing though… The women weren't satisfying him. He couldn't place his finger on why every night he felt empty when he fell asleep, like he was missing something. He tried to peg it on missing his wife and daughter but the more he thought about Fiona, the more he realized he didn't miss her. Kerrianne, he did of course, but that was a different kind of hole in his heart. There was an emptiness inside him that he needed filled, he just didn't know how yet.<p>

He had noticed that he hadn't seen nor heard from Eva in the last week. He didn't know what she thought, but that one night they shared together, was a night he would never forget. He still wasn't that fond of her, but that body, _oh that body_, could make anyone forget her abrasive personality.

He continued on with his day. Since everything had been quiet, there hadn't been any need for extra club business to take over his time. He was now spending his days in the garage, working on all the cars that came in. When the day was done he retreated back to the clubhouse and collapsed on his bed. He felt restless, he needed to get out and do something. He changed out of his TM work shirt and pulled a black SAMCRO t-shirt on. Before leaving, he picked up the cut that was hanging on the back of his chair. He got on his bike and took off; no destination in mind. He just wanted to rid.

He was on the road for over an hour, before something brought him back into town. He still wasn't feeling any better, but he felt a pull, telling him that he should be in town. It wasn't dark yet, but the sun had already started setting. He cruised along the main street, reading all the store signs. He'd been in a few, like Floyd's, the diner on the corner, and the convenience store. One sign in particular caught his eye. It was large, bright and vividly coloured; The Big Easy. It was obviously busy. People were bustling in and out. Each time the door opened, the waft of delicious smelling food came through. He drove past, turning down the first side street and finding the back alley that supply trucks frequented. He counted the backs of the shops until he stopped, idling to the side, behind the restaurant.

There was her car, parked a few feet away from the dumpster. He put the kickstand down, turning the bike off. Leaning against the seat, he crossed one foot in front of the other. He reached into his cut, grabbing a smoke and lighting it. He unbuckled his helmet but didn't bother to take it off. He didn't plan on staying around for long. He took a drag of the smoke, simultaneously running a hand down his face. What was he doing there? Did he plan on waltzing up to the door and speaking with her? If he did, what would he say? It was insanely clear that they'd only shared a one night stand. He was adamant about making that clear, so why was he standing outside her restaurant at this moment. Did he actually want to know how she felt? He groaned. When had he turned into such a sap? Standing here, worrying about some random woman. Granted, this woman did go out of her way to be kind, in her own way, when he first arrived in Charming.

While he stood there, trying to figure out what his motives were, he felt the vibration of the burner in his pocket. He picked up, listening to the instructions being given. He tossed his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out. He buckled his helmet, straddled his bike and roared off, back in the direction of the clubhouse.

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><p>I was curled up on the couch, my favourite fuzzy red blanket wrapped around me. I had a bowl of cereal sitting in my lap and the remote resting on the arm of my couch. I was currently watching a chick flick, Serendipity. I didn't care that watching these kinds of movies threw me into a certain stereotype, I couldn't help but love the impossible love stories and utmost happy endings. I figured my killing people cancelled out the 'typical girly' persona. I chomped down on another spoonful of my cereal, enjoying my Saturday night in. I wasn't working at the restaurant this weekend, and I didn't have to go anywhere for a job. I relished in the relaxation I was experiencing.<p>

A low rapping on my front door distracted me from my movie. Who could be at my door? It was almost midnight. I rested my bowl on the arm beside the remote, I uncurled myself from my blanket and reached under the couch, grabbing one pistol. I cocked it back, hiding it behind my back, while peeking out the closest door window. He wasn't looking at the door, but out to the street. I could see the profile of his face in the dim lighting of my porch light. My stomach did a tiny somersault. Why was he here so late? Was this a booty call? The thought of him thinking he could use me like that reared a hideous flare of anger. I took a moment, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head. I had no idea why he was here, I couldn't start jumping to conclusions.

I cracked the door open, enough so that he could see my face. He turned at the sound and I saw the worry lines in his face.

I crooked an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

I immediately looked passed him, thinking there might be something on the street.

He sighed, "Can I sleep here?"

I shook my head in disbelief, "What?"

He didn't answer, just ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep the worry from reaching his eyes.

"I… uh… What's wrong with the clubhouse?" I stammered.

He shrugged, "Too loud. I jus' need some peace an' quiet."

I furrowed my brows together but ultimately opened the door wide, allowing him to walk in. Before I shut the door behind him I scanned the street again. I spotted his Dyna parked on the roadside, almost as if he hadn't planned to even stop and knock. I shut the door, locking it with a click. I turned back around to find Filip standing awkwardly in my hallway.

"Ya rememba where the spare room is?" I smiled, trying to lighten his mood.

He nodded, "Aye."

I fought the urge to reach out and comfort him. There was something very visibly bothering him but I wasn't in a position to ask any questions.

I waved my hands in the direction of the room, "Go on then. If ya need anything, just let me know."

He nodded, trudging down the hall. I couldn't even be mad that he was still wearing his boots. He appeared to be a broken man, a little less broken than when he first walked my threshold, but close to that brink again. I curled back up on the couch, engulfing myself in the movie again.

About a half hour before the movie was over, my eyes began to droop. I decided to go to bed. I got up, shut off the TV and the lights. I picked up my bowl, leaving it in the kitchen sink, rinsing it out. I rubbed my eyes as I walked to my bedroom door. The spare room door was open a few inches and I peeked through. Filip had fallen asleep spread eagle horizontally across the bed. The only thing he managed to take off were his shoes. I opened the hall linen closet and pulled out a blanket. I snuck into the room and covered his body with the blanket. As I was around his face, pulling the blanket away, I noticed a crumpled picture in his hand. I looked down at it. In the picture was a beautiful mixed woman holding a toddler, with wild curly hair, on her hip. I felt like my heart was being ripped to shreds. I started feeling even guiltier about our little escapade. Not only was he a husband, he was also a father. I gently tugged the picture out of his grasp, smoothing it out and placing it under his hand. I sulked away, climbing into my bed. I gathered my blankets and pillows around me. I curled into the fetal position and let myself fall into a fitful sleep.

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><p>I woke up the next morning feeling groggy. I wiped away the remaining sleep from my eyes before sitting up. I heard the tap in the bathroom turn on. Filip must be awake too. I got up, pulling a pair of track pants on and the first hoodie I could find. I went to the kitchen and started to make a pot of coffee. I realized that I left my burner in my room and went back to grab it. When I pulled it out of my side table, I saw a message flashing on the screen. I swiped the phone to unlock it, reading the message. I pressed print and bent down to pull out my big, black duffel from under my bed. I hoisted it over my shoulder and walked back out to my living room where my wireless printer was located.<p>

I dropped the bag next to the coffee table, unzipping it to pull out the map of the United States that I had. I cleared everything off my coffee table, unfolding the map and covering my table with it. I could smell the coffee in the air and stood back up. I was in such a zone, that I hadn't noticed that Filip had been watching me since I walked out of my room the second time. I mumbled to myself, thinking about the travel distance between the two jobs I'd been offered. Would I be able to take them both? I needed to map out my travel plan, figure out the proper timeline and get back to my potential employers. I dumped too much sugar and cream into my cup and went back to my map. I set the cup down on the table, grabbing the two print outs from my printer and sat on the edge of the couch cushion. Without a second glance, I reached into the second drawer to my right, pulling out a permanent marker and pushing the drawer closed. Still mumbling, I examined the locations of both jobs and circled them on the map. I drew a line from one to the other, than circled Charming. I made a line from Charming to both locations, adding up the miles to and from each location. While I contemplated my options, I heard shuffling from behind me.

"There's coffee in the kitchen." I called, without looking up.

I wasn't aware how close Filip had gotten until I felt his leg brush against my shoulder. I jumped at the contact and managed to draw all up my forearm with my marker.

"Shit!" I swore.

"Sorry. Didn' mean ta startle ya." A harsh laugh came from him, a mixture of his low voice and just waking up.

I rubbed my arm, "No big deal."

"What're ya doin'?" he asked, peering down at the map.

I grabbed my mug, taking a sip, "Figurin' out if I can take the two jobs I've been offered."

He nodded, bending closer to the map. He leaned across me, examining the few routes I'd drawn out.

He pointed to another route I missed, picking up my marker, "If ya take this one here, it'll save ya about 25 miles."

I leaned closer, our bodies brushing against each other. I felt a jolt of arousal course through me at the small touch. I ignored the change in my body and eyed the route he'd drawn on with my marker.

"Yer right but I'll have to circle back around up here in Nevada." I grabbed the marker from him, showing him where I was talking about.

He shook his head, ripping the marker from my hand, "Doesn't matter. Either way, it'll save ya time in the end if ya go this way."

I let out an exasperated sigh and we began bickering back and forth, drawing all over my map, with whose route was better.

About fifteen minutes of us arguing passed when I realized the absurdity of the situation and burst into laughter. We were both crouched around my coffee table, markings everywhere on my map, both our heads inclined towards one another and if looks could kill, our glares would've taken each other out.

One of Filip's eyebrows inclined at me, while I leaned back against my couch laughing hysterically.

"What're ya laughin' at?" he questioned, still in a mode to explain why his route was better.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, "Ya realize we're fightin' ova the best drivin' route right?"

"So?" he furrowed his brows.

I gave him a second to take in the entire situation and a broad smile broke across his face.

He let out a breathy laugh, "Yea, I guess yer right. This is a little ridiculous."

He put the cap on the marker and I stood up with my empty coffee mug. I beckoned him to follow me and we both went into the kitchen.

I reached up into the cupboard asking, "Coffee?"

"Aye, please." He nodded.

I poured two more cups and handed his to him. I pulled out the cream and sugar, adding normal amounts to my mug this time and offering it to him. He put a spoonful of sugar in his and took a sip. We stood in my kitchen, sipping our coffees quietly, not speaking. I was still sporting a smile, baffled by what my morning had entailed so far. Filip's phone went off and he picked up. I figured it was the club calling. The conversation was short and he flipped the phone shut soon after picking up. He downed his coffee and placed the empty mug in my sink.

"Thanks…" he started, "for last night."

I shrugged him off, "Don't worry 'bout it."

He eyed me carefully, "Seriously. Thank ya."

I rolled my eyes playfully, "Yea, yea."

He turned to leave when I had a brilliant idea. I pulled open the junk drawer beside my stove and rummaged around, looking for my spare key. I found it and followed after Filip.

"Filip," I called.

He turned around, one hand on my door handle.

"Here." I tossed him the spare key and he caught it.

He looked down at it with confusion, "What's this?"

"I'll be gone for a while." I explained, "In case ya need some peace."

"Uh… t-thanks…" he stammered.

I gave him a shy smile, "No problem. I figured after last night, ya might need it a little more often and I won't be around."

He was at a loss for words so he just nodded again, turning and leaving. I leaned against the door frame and thought about the decision I had just made. Was I going to regret the fact that I just gave this man a key to my house? I immediately started to panic. Oh lord, what have I done? My house, he's going to destroy it. I'll come back and it'll be in ruins; food everywhere, dirty dishes haphazardly placed, clothes thrown about and what if he found my safes? I took a deep breath in, trying to calm myself down. This would be his test, a test to see if I could even consider continuing to be his… umm… friend? I finished my coffee, tossed the mug in the sink and returned to the mess on my coffee table. I had to admit, even though I wouldn't to his face, Filip was right. He'd shown me the shortest travel distance on the map, which allowed me to take both jobs no problem.


	9. Club Business & Secrets

**A/N: Here's another one for you! This chapter is longer than the rest, only because I didn't want to cut it off in the middle of anything. **

**WARNING: If you don't like smut, don't read any further. **

**Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

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><p>I pulled into my driveway, stifling an oncoming yawn. I turned off the ignition, grabbed my duffel and made for the house. I had no idea what time it was, having forget to check before I got out of the car. I unlocked the door, kicking it shut and locking it. I didn't bother turning any lights on and shuffled to my bedroom. I flicked the bedside lamp on, dropped my duffel at the foot of my bed and began stripping out of my clothes. I let them fall wherever, too tired to care. I'd been gone exactly nine days and I missed my bed terribly. I stood in front of my closest clad in only my bra and panties.<p>

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><p>He pulled his Dyna up to the house, having noticed her car sitting in the driveway. He wondered briefly if he should go back to the clubhouse for the night. He didn't want to disturb her. He sat on his bike, idling in the driveway before ultimately turning it off and parking. He trudged up to the house unlocking the front door with her spare key. He couldn't shake off the strange feeling that he was intruding. He slipped his boots off, lining them up on the shoe rack against the wall. He shrugged out of his cut and hung it up in the front closet. He'd taken care to make sure that he left her house in the condition she'd left it in, but that didn't stop him from spending every single night there. As he went down the hallway, he took note that all the lights in the house were off. She must be asleep, he thought to himself. As he rounded the corner, about to step into 'his' room, he noticed a soft light coming through her half-opened door. He crept closer, not wanting to make noise, if she was asleep and had fallen asleep with the light on.<p>

His mouth dropped when he peered through her door. There she was, holding her hair in a twist with one hand, and the other on her hip, in nothing but her underwear. Her supple backside was perked out to one side, while she stood with her hip poked to the same side. He gulped, and something low in him stirred. The soft light was cascading off her skin, making it an even deeper golden colour, contrasting against the darkness of her hair. He should turn around and leave, go back to the clubhouse, find a crow eater and have a night with her, but no, he was frozen in place.

In the next second, she bent forward, her one hand releasing her hair and it tumbled down her back in thick dark waves. He felt that familiar twitch. Without a second thought, he strode into her room. There was no turning back now. With a flick of his fingers, he unclasped her bra and heard her gasp as it fell forward down her arms. He reached around, trailing his fingers on her skin, to cup both her breasts in his hands. With his help, she stood back up, her body pressed against his chest. She leaned heavily into him, her arms coming around to cradle his hands. She guided him, massaging her breasts. He let her set the place, having surprised her. When she relinquished her control to him, he rolled both her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Her body bucked backwards into him, a soft gasp escaping her mouth. He continued working her up, relishing in the feel of her body moving against his. He let one hand wander down from her breast, across her flat stomach to the centre between her legs. Her hands remained on top of his; eager to help when she felt he was slacking. He rubbed four fingers against her, above her underwear, feeling her reaction immediately. She stretched on to her tiptoes, her shoulders pushing back into his. He littered her exposed neck with light kisses, as she leaned her head against his shoulder, her face turned away from his.

Once his teasing was enough, she pulled his hand away from her, bending his ring and pinkie fingers down. She brought his two fingers to her mouth and sucked on them. He let out a groan with the suction she exhibited on his fingers. She pulled his fingers out, guiding them back down to her core. She slipped his fingers under the fabric of her panties and ran his fingers along her centre. He pushed his body against hers, feeling himself harden. She circled his fingers around her most sensitive spot, her hips rolling into the movement. When he regained control over himself, he took control of his own hand and let her hand rest on top of his, nails digging down. He hardened with each tiny puff of air she let out. He continued to massage her other breast, while she lifted her free hand away and reached back, running her fingers through his hair. Her fingers played with the strands in his hair, pulling lightly. She let her fingers trail down the side of his neck, then back up to the trace the deep ridge of the scar on his cheek.

He pulled his hands away from her, spinning her around and hoisting her up. She spread her legs, wrapping them around him. She threw her arms around his neck, while he kept his under her backside, supporting her. Their mouths connected and she sighed into him. She let one arm fall between their bodies, grabbing on to his groin. She kneaded her hand against him, urging him on. He turned, walking them both over to her bed. His knees hit the side of her bed and he bent forward, laying her back on the covers. He ripped her hand away from him and attacked her mouth again. She let her arms splay far above her head. He ran his hands from her biceps to her wrists and back down. She pulled him closer with her legs, tilting her groin up towards his. He ran his fingers down her sides when she sat up, reaching his belt and undoing. She fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans, while he pulled his t-shirt off his torso. She pushed his jeans and boxers down with a strong shove. He stepped out of his pants, leaning into the bed. He placed one knee between her legs, crawling above her.

She paused for a second, tracing a finger around his newest tattoo.

"That's new." She murmured, admiring the American dollar bill tattooed across his upper chest.

He gazed down into her eyes and asked, "Do ya like it?"

For a second he panicked. He wasn't sure why, but we was incredibly self-conscious in this moment. He desperately wanted her to approve of his newest ink.

She gave him a sweet smile and nodded, "For the first dolla ya earned?"

He smiled back, relief washing over him. Not only did she accept it, she understood the meaning behind it. His mouth met hers, in a sweet but passionate kiss. He put all his gratitude into that kiss and surprised her. She let out a soft whine, her hand pressing flat against his ink. He hooked his fingers under the hem of her panties and slid them down her legs. She widened her legs, letting his body rest in-between them. He ran his hardness against her core, finding that she was still as ready as ever. He pushed in, grunting at how tight she was. Her nails dug into his shoulders, a small whimper coming from her throat. He picked up his rhythm giving in to his urges. She followed him, every movement matching. Her hands ran down from his shoulders to his ass, where she gripped tightly. He thrust in her causing her to squeal.

"Filip!" she called out.

He grunted with pleasure, picking up his pace, thrusting faster and harder each time. He felt her inner body start to tighten. He quickened is pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin. Her moans were continuous, blending in to one another. Her nails dug deeper into his backside. He smirked with the knowledge that he'd have half-moon cuts all along him for a day or two. He felt her release take hold of her, her breaths heavy. She bucked her body against his, screaming out. Close behind her, only a few thrusts to go and he came crashing into her.

"Eva…!" he groaned, his head falling down into her shoulder.

They remained still for a few moments, catching their breaths. Both had their eyes closed, sweat glistening on their bodies. Filip finally pulled out of her, rolling on to the bed, beside her. She crawled around, slipping under the covers, offering him a spot. She turned, her back to him and flicked her side table light off. He faced his body towards her, flinging an arm over her waist, pulling her in closer to him. He ran a hand through her hair, moving it to fall over one shoulder. He pressed a kiss into that shoulder. Silence overtook them, both content.

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><p>I woke up tangled in my sheets, sharing a bed with Filip. I admired him in the morning glow. He was fast asleep, snoring like a trucker. When he slept, his face looked much younger, happier. I ran a finger along the healed scar on his cheek. I was saddened that someone felt they needed to cut up his face, trying to take his handsomeness away. Unlucky for whoever that person was, it only amplified his good looks. The scars made him more intimidating but matched with his deep brown eyes, and the dimples when he smiled, there wouldn't be a woman in this world that could turn him away.<p>

I flung the sheets away from me, getting out of bed. I dressed quietly, stealing Filip's shirt to wear. In my yoga shorts and oversized t-shirt I walked out to the kitchen. As soon as I left my room, I remembered the name that Filip called out last night. It was a different variation of my name, Eva. I had only ever heard him use it once before, and I'd be lying if I didn't like it. It was special, a secret, a name no one had ever called me before. I had been Lee for as long as I could remember. I wondered where and why he'd started using the name. If things continued the way they seemed to be going, maybe I'd get a chance to ask him.

On my trek into the kitchen, I noticed the subtle changes in my house. I saw a few coasters out on the coffee table, as if they'd been used. In the front hall, there were a few pairs of Filip's shoes, lined up orderly and in the closet I could see a TM work shirt and his cut hanging up. In the kitchen I noticed that even though there were dishes used, they had been washed, put in the dishwasher or at the very least rinsed. Not only was Filip using my house as a quiet place to sleep, he'd been living here the entire time I was gone. I pushed that bit of information to the back of mind, still unsure of where Filip and I stood.

I pulled out some pans, and began making breakfast. I started with making breakfast sausages and bacon. I immersed myself in making a simple but filling breakfast of fried eggs, toast, sausages and bacon. Before I started on the eggs, I started a pot of coffee, needing something to wake me up a little faster.

While I busied myself in the kitchen, I heard the low rumble of a motorcycle outside. I peaked out the kitchen window, spotting Happy parking on the side of the road and walking up to my door. I timed his walk perfectly so that I opened the door the moment he lifted a hand to knock.

"Mornin'." I answered brightly.

He raised his eyebrows at my cheeriness.

"What's up?" I asked, beckoning him inside.

He walked in, careful to take his shoes off and followed me into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and sat, legs wide apart, leaning backwards.

"How was the trip?" he asked, in his deep rasp.

I shrugged, pulling three mugs from my cupboard, "It was alright."

He eyed the third mug, "Who else is here?"

I flushed, forgetting that no one knew about Filip being here.

I stammered, "Oh… Ha… I'm just tired, that's all."

I reached back up into the cupboard, placing the mug back in its place. I poured us both a cup of coffee and handed his to him. He took a long sip, not wanting to add anything into his.

"How come yer in town?" I questioned him, leaning against my sink.

He looked up, "Boys needed some things taken care of."

I nodded. We remained quiet for a moment. Happy and I had a strange relationship. We weren't friends, but we were more than acquaintances and we definitely weren't attracted to each other. It wasn't that I thought he was ugly or anything; he just wasn't my type in particular. I wasn't even sure what my type was, or if I had one, but if I did, it definitely wasn't him. He knew of me from my work, and when I showed up in Charming it was him who gave the rest of SAMCRO the run down on me. It was why I co-existed with them.

Happy broke the silence; "I came by to say hi, before I made my way back."

I smiled, "How long have ya been here?"

"About 7 days. I got here right after you left. Figured I'd hang around so I could at least see you before I left. Be nice and what not." He explained.

I chuckled, "Since when is Happy known to be 'nice'?"

He shrugged, no answer. He took another sip of his coffee when I heard Filip's footsteps coming down the hall. I panicked, unsure of what to do. I didn't want any kind of trouble and I didn't know how Filip would react to Happy being here. Turns out it didn't even matter, he strolled in to the kitchen, sniffing deeply and walking straight to me, not noticing Happy sitting in the chair by the doorway. I was distracted by his naked upper body for a second, almost forgetting about Happy.

"What's tha' smell?" Filip grinned at me.

I tried for my own smile, but my lips failed me. He didn't notice, moving in to plant a chaste kiss on my mouth. I widened my eyes in fear, and caught Happy's eyes trained on the two of us.

"We have company…" I murmured.

Filip backed away, "What?"

"Chibs." Happy spoke, his rasp filling my kitchen.

Filip spun around eyeing his Tacoma brother. The room filled with tension, all three of us completely frozen, the only sound was the sizzling bacon in the pan.

"What're ya doin' here, Hap?" Filip finally asked, his back still straight.

He shrugged, "Boys were wondering where you were going off to at night. I've been following you."

"Wait," I called over Filip's shoulder, "That's why yer in Charming? That's what the boys needed taken care of?"

Filip turned to me, taking in my words, "Why? They don' trust me?" He aimed his question at the other man.

"Not about trust, brother. You're new around here, they just needed to make sure everything was kosher." Happy stated.

No one said anything. We all stared at one another.

Happy started again, "How long?"

Filip walked across the kitchen pulling out a chair, straddling it backwards, his arms crossed along the top of it.

"How long what?" Filip asked.

Happy rolled his eyes and motioned between the two of us, "How long have you two been fucking?"

I choked on my coffee, spitting it back into my mug. Filip narrowed his eyes but remained silent. I walked around the two men, leaving them to discuss their internal club issues. I went back to the stove, frying up the eggs, and placing all the food on plates, making it a buffet like breakfast. I tuned out the murmurs of the two men in my kitchen. I didn't know how Filip wanted to explain whatever it was we were doing to the club, so I kept myself out of the conversation. I pulled out that third coffee mug, filling it and putting Filip's desired amount of sugar in it. I balanced two plates and the mug, setting them down on the table. I put the coffee in front of Filip, his arms stretched out, warming his hands around the mug. I turned away picking up the rest of the essentials for breakfast, pacing everything on the table. I took a seat next to Filip, picking at the food and putting small portions on my plate. Filip spun his chair around, dishing out his own breakfast. Happy followed close behind. All three of us sat in silence, eating our breakfast.

With a mouth full of food, Happy inquired, "What do I tell the club?"

I watched Filip out of the corner of my eye and saw as he paused. He didn't know what to say.

I answered instead, "Don't tell them anythin'. At least not until we figure out what we're doin'."

They both looked at me, Filip nodding, "Yea."

Happy rolled his eyes, "Fine but I still don't have anything to tell them. What to I tell them about your nightly activities?"

Filip shrugged again, "Crow eater?"

It was my turn to roll my eyes, "Oh yea, tell 'em you're sneakin' round town with a crow eater… Way ta make a girl feel good."

Happy widened his eyes, seeing the beginnings of my temper surface.

Filip narrowed his eyes, "Wha' d'ya suggest then?"

"I don't know." I mumbled, "Say ya got a motel room, or somethin'."

"Oh, that's perfect." Filip scoffed, "A motel room for what? Bringin' the respectable girls back to?"

"Are ya kiddin' me?" I yelled, "Is that what this is ta ya? Just a fuck here an' there when yer feelin' low? I'm not a fuckin' whore."

Happy leaned back, enjoying the show.

Filip slammed his fork on his plate, "That's not what I'm sayin'. Don't put words in my mouth! We need something ta tell the rest of the club. Ya want ta tell them what we been doin'? Do you even have a name for what we've been doin'? Oh wait… I can think of one, fuckin'."

I pushed my chair out from under the table; standing up, "Fuck off. If that's really all this is ta ya, then ya can fuck off. Don't knock on my door again, not even when ya need a 'quiet place' ta sleep."

I stormed out of the kitchen, to my room and straight into the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me locking it and turning the shower on. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the water to heat up and staring into space. I let my mind shut down, working on autopilot.

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><p>"Smooth." Happy mumbled.<p>

Filip lifted one hand and gave him the finger but all Happy did was chuckle.

"I'll give them the crow eater lie, but you two need to figure your shit out. Find out what you both want and work from there." Happy said.

Filip ran a hand through his shaggy hair, "That woman is going ta be the death of me."

Happy shrugged, "You're the one who decided to get all mixed up in her crazy."

"Ya tellin' me ya never fantasized 'bout that body of hers?" Filip questioned.

Happy shook his head, "Not my type."

Filip wiped a hand down his face, "I have a hard time believin' that." He sighed, continuing; "I need ta get out of here before she gets out of that shower."

They both stood up, cleaning off their plates, rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher. They piled all the left over food on to one plate, cleaning the rest. They left the plate of food on her kitchen island and made their way out.

"Give me a minute brother, gotta go and grab the rest of my clothes." Filip jogged down the hallway.

He scrambled up his discarded clothes around her room, realizing now that she had been wearing his shirt. He swore, and ran back out to the hall grabbing his TM shirt and pulling it on. He'd have to change when he got back to the clubhouse. The two men walked out of the house together, Filip still very aware of the spare key, sitting on the key chain, he had in his pocket. This wasn't over. He would be back, and they would figure out what the hell they were doing. He just needed to give her some time to cool down.


	10. Truce

**A/N: These two are back at it again... Will they ever learn to get along? Let me know what you think!**

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><p>Two entire days had passed and I was still furious with Filip. I was certain my fury stemmed from my own insecurities, than from the suggestion made at the breakfast table, but nonetheless, still I was mad. In order to avoid all possible causes of running into him, or any other club members, I had been going into work long before opening and stayed too long after closing.<p>

It was the lunch rush on my third day trying to avoid SAMCRO and the stupid Scot that things took a new turn. I was in the kitchen, working and sweating away. I ordered around the kitchen staff, making sure that all menu items were being heated on the stove and ready to be sent out promptly. I had my hair pulled back in its traditional French braid and I was wearing frumpy clothes; really old jeans and a loose black t-shirt. I twisted my braid around, clipping it into a large bun on the back of my head. I found some spare bobby pins in the pocket of my apron and attempted to tame the wildness of my fringe. I grabbed my bangs, grouping as much together as I could, twirling the hair around my fingers and flipping it off to the left of my forehead, pinning down as much as I could. I could instantly feel the flyaways – shooting straight up into the air. I huffed, frustrated with my hair but ultimately turned back to the pot of jambalaya I was cooking up.

I stood over the work bench, a cleaver in my hand when one of the waitresses sped into the kitchen.

"Lee!" she strained.

I could hear the distress in her voice and I assumed there was an unsatisfied customer. It sounded as if she'd run a marathon just to get back here and let me know about the complaint. I looked up, pausing with my current hacking of sausage. Her eyes were wide, her body vibrating with unease.

"What?" I called over the counter.

She hopped to her other foot, "There's someone here to see you. I told him to wait but he didn't. I tried Lee, I really did."

The kitchen doors banged open and in walked Filip, an amused grin on his face. The waitress backed away, slipping past the revolving doors, back into the dining room.

I pointed the cleaver at Filip, "Ya can't be back here."

His grin faded at the sight of the knife in my hand. He raised his hands in surrender, "Can we talk?"

I scoffed, waving the knife wildly, "Oh… Now ya wanna talk?"

I came around the work bench, pointing the knife right at his chest. He took a step back, hitting the wall behind him.

"C'mon Eva… How long ya plan on avoidin' me?" He pleaded.

I put one hand on my hip, the knife at the tip of his nose, "Foreva."

All of the kitchen staff had now stopped what they were doing and were staring at Filip and I. Filip was staring down the cold metal at me, his eyes soft and pleading. I rolled my eyes, ushering him in to the back office.

Before I slammed the door shut behind me, I turned back to my staff, "Get back to work!"

They all scrambled to continue on with their jobs and I shut the door. I was still facing the closed-door, my eyes squeezed shut. I was now realizing what I looked like. I was sweaty, my hair was flying in all directions and I was covered in various food stains. This was not how I wanted this confrontation to happen. I wanted to at least look like I had showered in that last 48 hours before this happened. I didn't want to see or hear Filip. I just wanted to be alone and be mad.

"Ya have yer staff scared shitless of ya." Filip chuckled.

Without turning I murmured, "Careful what ya say, Filip." I flicked the knife back into view, "I'm still holdin' a knife."

He stopped laughing but I swear I could feel the smirk that was still on his face. I thought about what he said and I imagined I did scare my staff. I'd been a tyrant these past few days, not at their fault, but at the man who was now standing in my office. I turned slowly, crossing my arms.

"What d'ya want?" I titled my head, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged, leaning against the desk, his arms crossed like mine, "Ta talk."

I crooked an eyebrow, "We're talkin'…."

"C'mon Eva, ya still can't be this mad." He griped.

I narrowed my eyes, "When was the last time someone compared ya ta a skank?"

"That's not what I was doin' an' ya know it." He huffed.

"Have ya been sleepin' with otha crow eata's?" I questioned.

He was taken aback, "Why does tha' matter?"

I threw my hands up, "How can ya ask that? Ya compare me ta one of them, all the while yer sleepin' with them and me. I don't fuck around with every man in a cut, with a reaper on its back. Hell, I've neva even kissed one 'till ya came along… How's that for being a damned crow eata?"

My accent thickened as I yelled. I could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to keep up with my fast speech. When I finished he was silent, contemplating.

He shook his head, "I wasn't comparin' ya to a crow eater, I was comin' up with an excuse tha' would be easily believed by tha rest of my club. I never even went so far ta think ya fit inta the same category as those girls."

I stood there, pinching the bridge of my nose. I felt a migraine coming on. He took a step towards me and I squinted at him through my hand. He tucked a few stray strands behind my ear, chuckling when they didn't stay put.

"Can't we jus' have some fun? No implications?" he lowered his voice.

I ran my hand down my face, eyes closed, "Fun or no fun, Filip, I don't share."

He was about to shrug, until he processed the meaning of my words. He was still, thinking about my revelation.

He let out a breath, "I'll still have ta put up a front with tha boys."

My eyes opened at that, "Forgive me for not believin' it would just be 'a front'."

His laugh was low and breathy, "C'mon sweethear'. I know ya've been enjoin' our time together, there's no denyin' tha'."

I shook my head, "I'm not denyin' anything. I'm wary as ta whether ya can actually keep yer word."

"Have a little faith." He murmured, leaning in close, planting a small kiss on my lips.

I gave in and kissed him back. There was no urgency, no roughness, just understanding; sealing the deal. Then in dawned on me.

With one hand on his chest I pushed him back, "Why?"

"Why what?" He breathed.

I shivered at the sound of his voice, our intimate moment affecting me, "Why are ya agreein' ta this?" I just told the man if he wanted to continue what we were doing, he needed to stop sleeping with other women.

He shrugged, "Ya've grown on me, woman."

Something in the way he said 'woman', referring to me, sent my body into chaos. I was fighting between shuddering at the sound of the word, and keeping my cool with the heat that flushed through my face.

I scrunched one eye at him, "I… um… d-did… Did ya just call me woman?"

His lips brushed against my ear, teeth lightly grazing, "Aye…" he hummed, "Do ya like that?" his breath a flurry down my neck, "…when I call ya…" he lowered his voice another octave and whispered against the sensitive spot just below my ear, "woman."

I closed my eyes as they rolled back into my head, my teeth biting down on my lip harshly. He overwhelmed my senses. One hand placed flat on the door, beside my head, the other tugging on my shirt to show more skin; his lips ghosting against my exposed neck and shoulder; his smell, which had become so familiar to me, of spicy aftershave, cigarettes and leather. In a flash movement, uncaringly losing all control, I fisted my palms into his cut, yanking the man towards me. My mouth attacked his, stifling the snicker that rose out of him.

Both his hands enveloped my head, trapping me in place. I didn't wait long before gliding my tongue along the crease of his lips, diving in with the tiniest approval on his part. Another chuckle rose in his chest at my reaction and I bit his lip in retaliation. He hissed, plastering his body against mine. My hands roamed, flipping up under his shirt, tracing the divots of his stomach. His head drooped, momentarily, his hair falling into his eyes, while I explored his body. I reached around, my fingers inching up his back. He brought his hands towards my face, resting them on the tops of my shoulders. Our mouths twisted together, neither of us wanting to give control to the other. We nipped, sucked and tasted each other, fighting for dominance.

Frustrated with my incessant need to be in control, Filip's fingers dug into my shoulders, his groin pushing against me. He ripped his lips away from mine, trailing his tongue down the side of my jaw, planting rough kisses down my neck. His teeth nibbled on the spot where my collarbone and neck met. A whimper of pleasure seeped out of me. His hands travelled down, reaching for the waistline of my jeans. His left hand dipped below the fabric, running along the line of my thong, his right hand circling around the button, preparing to take them off.

I came back to my senses, my hands gripping both his wrists, "Not here, we can't."

His eyes snapped open, staring up at me, "Yes we can."

He attempted to kiss me again but I turned my face, his lips landing on my cheek, "No. If I leave this room even more hot and bothered than when I walked in, people will start speculatin'."

He rumbled deeply, "And?" his face nuzzling against mine. He blew lightly on my cheek, sending me back into a lust filled darkness.

I shook the feeling away, "Yer club… These people know who they are… They'll go around town, mentionin' what they think happened here today…"

He groaned, knocking his forehead against the door, "Dammit."

He let out a shout pushing away from me. He straighten out his shirt, and repositioned himself in his pants, to hide the obvious bulge.

"I'll be back for ya." He promised, "Ya can count on tha'."

I grinned, leaning in to kiss him quickly, "I'll be waitin'."

He narrowed his eyes, ripping open the office door. I set my face in a scowl, as he rolled his eyes storming out of the room.

To make even more of a show, I shouted after him, "Stay out!"

I watched his retreating back, going through the dining room before scanning my kitchen. All the staff had stopped again, to take in our little scene.

I crossed my arms, glaring at them, "Nothing to see here!"

They all hopped back to work, missing the smirk that grew on my face. I returned to the jambalaya I was cooking before Filip had shown up. This was going to fun.

* * *

><p>We spent the next month and a half sneaking around town. If we were ever in public, near each other, we made it a contest to see who could seem more stubborn than the other. Our pillow talk consisted of Filip telling me about how the club was worried that I'd kill him when he was least expecting it. We laughed together knowing that they had no idea, none at all.<p>

The boys liked to stop by the restaurant often, ordering take out for lunch and they were always wary of sending Filip to pick up. If he did get chosen, they'd make sure he had an escort, typically Ortiz. We made it especially hard for the kid to 'keep the peace' between the two of us. Ortiz was always throwing himself in-between the two of us when we fake fought. We had turned our agreement into the biggest game of our lifetime. Happy was the only one who saw right through our charade. Even with a name like his, he definitely wasn't happy with our arrangement. Even though he knew what the two of us were up too, we still played pretend around him. He fought the scowl every time he saw us. He ignored the entire exchange best he could, but it was starting to get on his nerves, knowing that we would be a lot better off if we just admitted to what we were doing. The charade was causing unneeded stress on the club; always looking over their shoulders to see if I was going to be there brandishing a gun.

Even with all the fun and games, I was still avid that he not sleep with any other women while we fooled around. If I ever happened to find myself around the clubhouse, and I saw his front, I would become increasingly jealous. This caused too many arguments between the two of us. He asked that I show faith in him and trust that there was nothing going on, but all I could think was if he's willing to play this game with me, than there was nothing stopping him from gallivanting around with other woman. It was my fault really, I had agreed to this purely on the fact that it felt good. I wasn't sure why I became so jealous at the sight of him with another woman. Maybe I was telling him the truth when I told him I didn't share. I eventually turned the tables on him, flirting openly with other men, when I knew his eyes were on me. It didn't matter where I was, the grocery store, TM Auto, walking down Main Street. No matter, if he was watching, and there was another man around, I jumped at the chance to flirt, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

This added element to our game, had us clamouring over the other to try to outdo ourselves. We became careless, almost being caught dozens of times. This was the last straw for Happy. He started with cornering us, individually, cussing us out, telling us to come clean but neither of us would let it go. Filip was too stubborn to let me win, knowing I would gloat about how I was right and there was no chance in hell I was going to let him win. He'd use it against me, making me a conquest and nothing more.

Happy eventually decided to take matters into his own hands. He put a plan into motion, one that would have the two of us forced into the limelight. Happy had invited me to that week's SAMCRO party, telling me that all the boys would love to see me around. He also mentioned that a few of the old ladies were asking about me, namely Donna and Gemma. Who was I to say no to that request? It would give me another chance at one upping Filip.


	11. Falling Apart

**A/N: I'm so sorry that this update took this long! I hope it was worth the wait for you. Let me know what you think :) **

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><p>I parked my car outside the lot, taking some attention away from myself. I didn't plan on drinking too much tonight, at least not enough to stop myself from driving home. I walked around the gates, up the drive to see that the party was already roaring. I spotted the Prospect quickly, noticing the new ink.<p>

"Ortiz!" I called out as I approached.

He spun around, stopping mid-sentence to find me walking up. He was confused for a second, but let that goofy smile spread across his face. I fought the urge to burst into laughter at his smile.

With a beer in hand, he greeted me, "Lee! What brings you around tonight?"

"Happy invited me." I glanced around, not seeing Happy or Filip.

Ortiz tossed an arm over my shoulder, clearly already feeling the alcohol. I stared openly at him for a moment but let the innocent touch go. I reached up and pulled his head forward.

I examined his new ink, "When'd ya get this done?"

His chest puffed with pride, "Last night."

I let go of his head, "Shouldn't ya have somethin' coverin' those? Let'em heal properly?"

"You sound like everyone else." He rolled his eyes.

I laughed, "Everyone else has tattoos."

"Do you?" He asked, taking in my appearance. I let his eyes roam, finding that I was wearing extremely tight low rise jeans, an equally tight burgundy tank top that showed off a considerable amount of skin, and all black Chuck Taylor's. I left my hair out of its braid, letting it willow around me in deep waves. I happened to be having an extremely good hair day today, and was flaunting it.

I smirked, "If I did… It's not somewhere that ya can see."

The kid nearly spit out his beer, imaging where I could possibly have a tattoo. Little did he know I didn't sport any permanent ink on my body. It wasn't really my thing. I took the beer from his hand, downing a gulp.

"So… Who did you up?" I nodded to his tribal head tat.

A raspy voice sounded from behind me, "I did."

I chuckled, "Ah, if it isn't SAMCRO's very own tattoo artist himself."

I turned and Happy pulled me into a one armed hug, "I'm glad you made it."

I shrugged, "Nothing better ta do."

He tapped the beer bottle in my hand, "Prospect!" The kid stood at attention, "Get her another drink."

Ortiz nodded, taking off in the direction of the clubhouse door. With his arm still slung around my shoulders, Happy led me in the same direction. I gave Happy a side glance, unsure as to why he was being so touchy-feely with me, but I let it slide, seeing as it fit in with my end game. He pulled the door open, motioning for me to enter first. I stepped inside, nearly choking from all the smoke in the air, coughing slightly.

Happy chuckled, "Virgin lungs?"

I waved him off with watered eyes, "Excuse me for wanting to breathe easy." I took in all the men and women in the room smoking like chimneys, "If y'all don't die from a bullet, y'all will be put under for cancer or emphysema."

Happy shook his head still laughing. We both walked over to the bar, where Ortiz was standing there, holding two fresh cold beers.

"Thanks kid." I winked.

He smiled and left, leaving a crow eater to tend the bar. Happy and I enjoyed a drink in silence for a bit. I admired Happy's need for silence. He was always calm and collected, never one to overreact. Maybe I even envied him for that trait. I wasn't blessed in that department, I was hot-headed and liked to yell. Quiet had been never one of my strong suits. My thoughts were interrupted by a heavy hand on my back. I spit a bit of beer out as the hand smacked against my upper back.

I wiped my mouth, a scowl forming, "What the hell?

I turned to see Tig grinning down at me, "How's it going killer?"

"Good, until ya wasted my beer." I narrowed my eyes.

He and Happy laughed together. Tig slid into the stool next to mine, both men flanking me. Tig leaned over the bar, putting his puppy blue eyes to work, getting the crow eater to give him a drink. The girl came over with three shot glasses and a bottle of Jack.

Tig started pouring as I shook my head, "None for me, please. I drove tonight."

Tig snorted, "We all drove sweetheart."

He slid the glasses to both Happy and I, raising his in the air, "To money and pussy!"

Happy grunted in approval while I shouted, "Hold the pussy, and give me the money."

We all chuckled and downed our shots. I screwed up my face as the burn of alcohol went down my throat. Tig, Happy and I took two more shots each, before Tig wandered away, bottle still in hand. Happy grabbed the two of us another beer and we spun around, our elbows leaning against the bar, scanning to room around us. I immediately searched for the one man I came here for, finding him sitting on the couch, a crow eater in his lap. I blanched at the sight. I rolled the kinks out of my neck, trying my best to remember that he had a part to play. I prayed that maybe, just maybe, he'd be coming home with me tonight… But I was starting to think that was just wishful thinking. I had a feeling I'd finally see the real 'front' he'd promised me tonight.

Unbeknownst to me, Happy followed my eye line, seeing the same thing I was seeing. A Cheshire smile crept on to his face, his plan in full motion. Happy inched his fingers up my arm, letting his arm rest casually around me.

In shock, I twisted my head to stare at Happy. A question formed on my lips, but I waited, seeing that Happy was transfixed on something. He stared in the same direction that Filip was sitting. Happy caught someone's eye, and the look on his face became deadpan. It was almost like he was urging the other person to react; cause a scene. Curious about who Happy was staring at, I pivoted my head, in slow motion, around to see Filip glaring at the two of us. I managed to keep my face blank, but leaned further into Happy, making it seem like I was there with him.

Filip's glare deepened and it seemed as though he was fighting to stay where he was. I felt a swoop in my stomach, wanting desperately for Filip to cause a scene. I wanted him to mark his territory. I actually wanted him to claim me as his. I shook my head abruptly at my thoughts. Happy gazed down at me. I shrugged, letting his arm fall away and ignored the question on his face. I couldn't believe what I was thinking, nor what I was doing. I was literally turning myself into a crow eater. Here I was, wishing for one Son, while hanging from another one, just to get the other one's attention.

"I need some air." I breathed, standing up.

I got up, leaving my beer on the bar and making my way to the door. When I reached the door, I thought about back tracking, going to sit with Happy again. There was nothing wrong with spending time with a 'friend'. Even if he didn't know I was using him. I rotated, my eyes glazing over the people, when I caught something I wish I'd never seen. My rage flared. My hand gripped around the doorknob, my knuckles going white. The crow eater who had been previously sitting in Filip's lap, was now straddling him, her lips covering his. I shook with anger, contemplating storming over there to rip her hair out of her head. Filip brought his hands up and pushed the crow eater away from him, a stern look on his face. The crow eater cowered as he pushed her off his lap, but that didn't make me feel any less angry.

"Lee!" Someone shouted, but my attention was focused.

At the sound of my name, Filip looked up from where he'd lashed out at the crow eater and found me glaring. I saw a look of apology cross his, but I wasn't in a mood to accept it. I had known that our deal would come crashing to end for me, I didn't know why I even bothered showing up to the party tonight. What had I possibly thought to accomplish? I was just another notch on his bedpost. There was never anything more between us, even if I had fooled myself into thinking that. I felt a small tug on my arm and my gaze was ripped from Filip's. Happy was standing in front of me, concern clear across his face. I whirled around, out of his grip and stormed out the clubhouse door.

I didn't get far, wobbling and falling into the picnic table. I cursed Tig for giving me booze. I didn't have a getaway. My car was sitting there, on the other side of that gate, unable to go anywhere because I couldn't see straight. I sat myself on top of the picnic table, my feet planted on the seat. I rested my head in the palm of one hand, staring at the people around me through the veil of my hair. I sighed, I'd have to wait out my buzz, and then disappear.

"Lee." I heard the grumble beside me.

I pushed my hair aside, seeing Happy take a seat next to me.

He nudged my shoulder, "Don't worry too much about it."

I sighed, "Ya don't get it Hap."

I saw the smirk on his lips, out of the corner of my eye, "You'd be surprised at just how much I do understand."

I looked up at him, my brows furrowed together. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to decipher the meaning behind Happy's comment. I didn't have much time to stop and think because within a few seconds, I felt a harsh tap on my shoulder.

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><p>He watched as she stormed out of the clubhouse. He knew she was pissed. They fought about this particular situation all the time. He groaned, sinking backwards into the seat. Luckily enough for him and her, Happy was the only one to notice what happened. He covered his eyes with his hand, squeezing his temples, fighting off the headache he'd given himself. He hadn't even known she was coming tonight. Why didn't she tell him?<p>

He stood up, calling out to the boys around him, "Anyone going out for a smoke?"

Everyone around him shook their heads. He was thankful that they were too far gone to realize how absurd his question was, seeing as one of them was sitting on a chair with a smoke between his hands. He glared at the crow eater who started this whole problem as he walked away. He shoved the door open, taking a deep breath once outside.

He scanned the parking lot, finding her immediately. There she sat, her head in her hands, leaning forward on the picnic table. Happy sat beside her, shoulders touching. He felt a wave of jealousy tear through his body. He didn't want Happy anywhere near her, talking to her, touching her. He was going to have a long conversation with 'his brother' after he worked things out with Eva.

He took another quick glance around the parking lot, registering the faces of other charter members. It appeared that all of SAMCRO was inside. This would make it a bit easier. He picked up his stride, advancing over to the picnic table. He wasn't sure how to start. He took a deep breath, tapping her hard, three times on her shoulder.

She shifted her hair aside, peering at him. He noted that there wasn't any anger in her eyes, only disappointment. His stomach dropped at her gaze, worried that they'd taken it one step too far.

"Can we talk?" he mumbled.

She shrugged with no other answer. He stared at her for a minute, before moving forward, going across the lot to the office that looked to be empty. He took five steps before turning to make sure she was following. Without a glance to Happy she slid off the table, silent steps following after him.

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><p>I saw as his back disappeared into the small office of the garage. I shoved my hands in my pockets and breathed in. This was the end. I was done.<p>

"What do ya need ta talk about?" I asked.

He shut the door behind me, but I didn't turn. I could hear his breathing close behind me, low.

"She wasn't supposed ta do tha'." He explained.

I shrugged again, "Doesn't matta. Not anymore."

He shuffled around me, forcing me to look at him, "What's tha' supposed to mean?"

I felt the sudden need to cry. I willed the tears building at bay, gazing into his deep brown eyes.

"I'm done." I whispered, "This is ova."

He shook his head, "It doesn't have ta be."

I scoffed pulling my hands out of pockets, pushing his hands away from me, "Yes it does. Ya want to be free ta do what ya want. I'm not gonna stand in the way. It's not like we were anything otha than fuck buddies, right?"

"Eva…." He whispered, taking a step towards me.

"Don't." I put a hand up, "We agreed ta do this because it was fun. Well it's not fun for me anymore."

This angered him, "Ya've got ta be kiddin' me! I know ya saw what happened! I know that ya saw that I didn't want her touchin' me. Isn't that enough proof for ya? How many times are we going to have this argument?"

I flinched with the harshness of his voice. The room was too quiet for his loud voice. I matched his anger with my own.

I threw my hands in the air, "What did ya miss about this being ova? Ova means this argument is a moot one. Yer the one still pushin' it through."

"This isn't done, we aren't finished." He yelled.

He snatched my face up in his hands, yanking me towards him, his lips crashing into mine in an angry kiss.

* * *

><p>"What're you doing out here?" Ortiz asked.<p>

Happy glanced back, "Needed some air."

Ortiz sparked up a smoke, sitting in the recently vacated spot beside Happy, "Where'd Lee go?"

Happy shrugged, purposely keeping his eyes away from the office door. He knew they needed to work out their shit, and they didn't need all the club members getting involved.

"She must be inside somewhere." Happy grunted.

Ortiz nodded, "Maybe."

They heard the clacking of heels coming towards them and they both looked up. The Queen of SAMCRO stood in front of them, her mouth in a thin line.

"What's up?" Happy asked.

She huffed, "Falling behind with the TM work. Had to come back and grab the repo forms."

She turned to walk towards the office when Happy stopped her, "Have a drink first?"

She sighed, "I can't Happy. Too much to do."

"Come on, have the Prospect deal with everything tomorrow?" he bribed.

She chuckled, "Maybe just one drink." She turned to Ortiz, "Hey kid, you mind going into the office and grabbing those repo forms for me?"

Ortiz nodded as Gemma began walking towards the clubhouse. Happy hesitated, he couldn't let Gemma on to him and he also couldn't let the Prospect walk in on Chibs and Lee. Gemma disappeared through the clubhouse door, giving Happy his chance. Ortiz had reached the office and was turning the doorknob, as Happy jogged over to him.

"Don't open the door!" Happy called but was too late.

Ortiz opened the door, freezing in place. He stared at the scene in front of him. Happy reached him quickly, pulling the door shut quietly. Thankfully neither person inside had noticed the door being opened. Ortiz stared at the doorknob, processing what he'd just seen. Was it really Chibs and Lee he'd with their tongues down each other's throats? Wide eyed he stared at Happy. Happy groaned, this wasn't a part of his damn plan. He grabbed the Prospect pulling him a few feet away.


	12. Love Me Harder

**A/N: Due to ya'll being awesome, I've decided to post the very next chapter :) If you need a little song inspiration for this chapter, know that I wrote it listening to Love Me Harder - Ariana Grande (feat. the Weeknd) on repeat. Things are about to get serious! Let me know what you think. **

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><p>I heard the soft click of the latch on the door and came back to my senses. I laid my hands on Filip's chest, shoving him backwards.<p>

"That's not gonna work this time." I grumbled.

He rolled his eyes and I pushed past him to stand on the other side of the office, facing the door to the parking lot.

"There's nothin' goin' on with me or any of tha crow eaters. Will ya just believe me?" He pleaded.

I crossed my arms, "Fine! I believe ya but there's still 'Kerrianne'."

I didn't mean to blurt that out. I was jumping to conclusions and I knew it. I didn't know who Kerrianne was. I hadn't meant to bring up any of his old memories, but in the grand scheme of what we were doing, it was all wrong. He was still married, as far as I knew. I know he'd stopped wearing his ring, but I'd seen that picture. He was a husband and a father. I was just 'the other woman'.

He paused, his face falling blank. I began mumbling to myself. _How stupid could I be? Why had I allowed myself to get caught up in any of this?_ _Allowing myself to be the other woman? Ruining another woman's marriage!_

"I… H-how…" He stuttered.

I avoided his face, my eyes flitting about the room. I tried to focus on anything that wasn't him. I was making this worse than it was. I should've just said it was over and walked away.

He ran a hand down his face, taking an extremely deep breath.

He sighed, "Aye, Kerrianne…."

My demeanor softened, "Its fine Filip. I saw the ring when ya first came ta town. I knew what I was gettin' into."

He breathed, knees bending and falling into the couch. His elbows rested on his knees. I could spot the cold silver rings through his dark hair and unconsciously took a step towards him.

"It's more complicated than tha'." He murmured.

"Don't." I whispered, "Ya don't have ta explain."

He glanced up, to find me standing directly in front of him.

His head shook, hair flying with the movement, "Yes I do. Ya need to know tha truth." He paused, collecting his thoughts. He let his hands hang between his legs, the fingers on his right hand circling his left hand ring finger, "I am married, but only technically. My wife, Fiona… Is the reason I have these chibs."

I bit my lip at the confession. Two things came to light for me, one I now understood why all the boys called him Chibs, and two, his former life was one that I hadn't the slightest clue about. I hadn't even begun to imagine what had happened to him and never had the audacity to ask him. _How could his wife be the reason his face was mashed up? _

He ran a hand through his hair, "Kerrianne is my little girl. A man, Jimmy O, decided he wanted what I had; my family. He took them away from me, convincing my wife that he'd do worse to me if she didn't follow his wishes. He's True IRA, and she's sixth generation IRA. On top of everythin' she felt obligated. I lost everything. My wife is only my wife by Catholic law. In all definitions of the word, we're separated. There's nothing between us anymore. Only Kerrianne, who I'll likely never see again."

I bit my lip harder this time, those unruly tears threatening to come back again. I hadn't expected this to be his story. I reached out, my fingers caressing the side of his face, paying special attention to his scar. I cared about this man. I wasn't sure when it happened, but it was there. I could feel the emotions rack my body.

His hand caught mine, flattening it out against his cheek, "I want ya, Eva."

"I'm sorry?" I blinked, unsure of what he was telling me.

He stood up, causing me to back away. I bumped into the desk behind me, throwing my hands backwards to steady myself.

His voice lowered, "I want ya, and only ya. I want ya to be mine. There's been no one but ya since I came ta Charmin'. Ya've been the only one ta put up with my shite, or not." He chuckled and grabbed my hands, pulling them into his, "I don't want ta pretend anymore. Crow eaters do nothin' for me. It's only ya."

I blinked a few more times, trying to comprehend his words. _When had our agreement become this serious? I knew that I was starting to change my tune, but him too?_ When I fully processed what he was confessing to me those traitorous tears welled in my eyes. Worry flashed across his features, assuming I was about to reject him. To stop him from making the wrong assumption I leaned into him, my lips capturing his. I poured my answer into that kiss. Thoughts of him claiming me resurfaced and I hardened my kiss. His hands let go of mine, jamming me back into the desk at an awkward angle. My hands gripped the lip of the desk, keeping me firm while his mirrored mine, keeping him flat against me. My tears spilled over, making my cheeks slick with liquid. I felt one of his hands rest on the side of my face, wiping the liquid away. His other hand snaked around my waist, digging hard into my lower back. The pressure of his hand on my back forced me into an arch that plastered our bodies together. Our upper bodies were tilted at such a strong angle over the desk, my feet barely touched the floor. Filip was my only anchor. The desk lip bore into my curled fingers, but I ignored the protest of pain shooting up my arms.

* * *

><p>Gemma came back outside, beer in one hand and Clay in the other. She looked around for Happy and found him bent down and murmuring to the prospect outside of the office doors. She spotted the light on through the closed blinds and narrowed her eyes. There was something out of the ordinary happening.<p>

She pulled her hand away from Clay as he stopped to talk with a few visiting members. He gave her a questioning gaze, but she waved him off, stomping over to Happy and the Prospect.

She directed her question at the kid, "Did you get me the rest of those forms?"

Both Happy and Ortiz shot up, fear in their eyes.

Ortiz stammered, "I... um… no. Happy stopped to talk with me for a minute. Sorry ma'am."

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Happy, "What's going on?"

Happy tried his best to appear nonchalant and shrugged, "Don't know what you mean. Just wanted to talk to the kid about his tats."

"Don't lie to me Happy." She hissed.

He shook his head, "Not lying. Right kid?"

Ortiz nodded enthusiastically, hoping that they could steer Gemma away from the office.

Happy held out a hand, pointed in the direction of the clubhouse, "Have you met some of the newer Tacoma brothers?"

Gemma sneered, "No... Why don't you introduce me…?"

She let both Happy and the kid walk in front of her before calling out, "Let me just grab those forms first."

She spun on her heel, making for the office door. Ortiz gasped, and Happy reached out stopping Gemma's hand from turning the knob. He didn't say anything, just shook his head.

"What's going on?" Gemma shouted. She glowered at the two Sons. Happy's face was stoic, while the kid look shell-shocked, "What they hell happened?"

Her wrist turned the doorknob and Happy gripped down tighter grunting, "Don't Gem."

"Let go of me." She spit.

Happy lifted his hand, putting it up in a sign of surrender. He shook his head, sighing and backed away. He grabbed the prospect by his upper arm and began to lead him away from the door. Gemma shoved the door inwards, gaping at the sight she saw. She was too caught up to figure out who it was at first. All she could focus on were the two bodies, draped over the desk. The back facing her had a SAMCRO cut, and a woman's leg hooked around his hips. She studied them more carefully and was met with the sight of very dark hair, on both participants.

* * *

><p>"Chibs?" I heard a woman call from behind him.<p>

We jumped apart, startled at the interruption. I caught the eye of the woman in the doorway and realized it was Gemma.

"Merde [_Shit_]!" I spit out.

Filip turned around, peering at Gemma.

"Lee?!" she shouted.

We both straightened, while I pulled down my tank as far down as it would go. For a first, Gemma was at a loss for words. She gaped at the two of us for a minute before crossing her arms.

"What's going on here?" She asked snidely.

I wiped at my face ferociously, realizing that evidence of my tears were still clear on my face. Filip opened his mouth to try and say something but Gemma held up a hand, stopping him.

She leaned backwards out the door and shouted, "Happy get in here!"

We both groaned, Happy was the last person we needed to be a part of this. Filip took a step backwards, covering my body with his. I lifted one eyebrow at his stance, almost as if he was covering me, hiding me from the people in the room. I put one hand forward, resting on his shoulder blade, acknowledging his position.

Happy's face appeared in the doorway and Gemma pulled him violently in to the room. He ended up standing in the void between us and Gemma.

"How long?" she pried, looking directly at Happy.

Happy shrugged, "Dunno."

"Don't lie, Happy." She pointed in a threatening manner.

"I only found out about a month ago. I don't know how long before that." Happy conceded.

Gemma turned her glare on us, "Care to give me the real answer."

Both Filip and I stood mute.

Gemma stalked forward, stopping inches from Filip, one hand on her hip, "Did you think about how this would affect the club?"

I shook my head, "Why would anything between us affect the club, Gem?"

Her eyes bore into my skull, she could be intimidating when she wanted to be.

"All the stress you two have put on the club. You have Clay convinced that you two are going to end up killing each other, literally." She seethed.

I pursed my lips, trying to hold in my laughter. I actually had the President of SAMCRO worried that I would turn into a loose cannon on them. Another body popped up behind Gemma.

"Ummm…. Clay and Jackson are on their way over here." Ortiz blurted.

"Shite." Filip finally spoke.

I rolled my eyes, relaxing back onto the desk, perfectly hidden behind Filip's body. If someone walked in, they'd only be able to see my legs, and only if they studied hard enough.

"What do we tell them?" Gemma asked.

Filip shrugged and I interrupted, "Tell them the truth."

My comment was directed at Filip, who turned and gazed at me, "Have we even worked out the truth for ourselves."

I gave him a condescending look, "Wasn't that what our whole conversation led up ta? Are ya now tellin' me ya lied, made up tha entire thing?"

I shot up, my face in his. He let a small smile slip across his face, stroking a finger down my inner forearm.

"Ya know none of tha' was a lie. I'm jus' askin' if ya want the whole club ta know… right now?" he inquired.

I sighed, not sure if I was ready to get into bed with the club. If this was going to go official, I'd be an old lady. I'd have to play by some of their rules. Was I ready for their shit storm to flood my life? Gemma watched the entire exchange with interest. She had seen the obvious tension between the two of us from the get go, but she never imagined that it was actually coming to life behind closed doors. She hid her smile. She was happy for Chibs, he needed someone after all the complications of his old life.

Clay's tall figure crowded the doorway, "Gem? Is everything alright in here?" He took a moment to browse the room, greeting the others, "Hap. Chibs." When his eyes landed on me he spoke with question, "Lee?"

Filip and Gemma twisted around, facing Clay. I reached forward, circling my fingers through Filip's. I'd given him my answer. The club was going to find out sooner or later. At least we could do this sooner and get over the shock faster. I couldn't see the smirk, but I knew it was there on his face. His fingers curled around mine, squeezing. Clay caught the action and ogled at our hands entwined for a long moment.

He lifted his eyes to our faces, another question coming out, "Chibs… and Lee?"

Jackson rounded the corner, "Chibs and Lee what? Finally killed each other?"

He snorted with laughter, stepping into the office. His amusement was wiped away quickly when he took in the scene of the room. His eyebrows shot up his face, disappearing into his hairline.

"Someone care to explain what's going on around here?" Clay's voice reverberated around us.

I tightened my grip around Filip's hand, unsure of what the club's reaction was going to. What was he going to say? Every way I thought about announcing it, sounded juvenile and pathetic.

"Yea." Filip confirmed, "Me and Eva."

Both Jackson and Clay tilted their heads in question. Gemma sighed, ushering everyone outside.

"C'mon boys, let's take this outside. I'm sure neither Chibs nor Lee want us intruding on their intimate moment." She directed.

Filip and I were the last to reach the door, but Gemma turned back around.

"I want to speak with her." She told Filip.

Filip nodded slowly, turning to face me, the question 'would I be ok' on his face. I winked up at him. I could handle anything Gemma decided to throw at me. He reluctantly let my hand go and sped up to catch up with the rest of the Sons. Clay pulled him into a one arm hug, slapping him on the back enthusiastically. I heard the 'good for you' loudly from the door where Gemma and I stood.

Gemma let her smile show, momentarily before spinning to face me again, smile wiped clean.

"Inside." She commanded.

I did as I was told, back tracking into the office.

"Sit." She pointed to the couch.

I crouched down, settling on the arm closest to the door. Gem pulled the office chair around the desk, sitting down, crossing one leg over the other.

"You love him?" She eyed me.

I scoffed, "Its ta early ta know, Gem."

She shook her head, "It's never too early."

I just stared at her, keeping my emotions away from my features.

"The club comes first…" She started but I stopped her, a hand in the air.

I nodded, "I know, same goes for me. My job comes first… Not the restaurant."

Gem and I stared each other down. She took her time mulling over the fact that Filip and I were going official. She leaned back in her chair, her smile returning. I closed my eyes, silently thanking every God out there for not creating a war between me and the Queen of SAMCRO.

"Come here Lee." She reached out for me, pulling me into the rare Gemma embrace.

I couldn't help but chuckle. I wrapped my arms around her.

"Welcome to the family." She cooed in my ear.

For a brief second I felt the blood in my veins run cold. What had I gotten myself into…? I did my best to push those negative thoughts aside. Filip and I were still in the 'try' stage. We didn't know where this was going to end up. I didn't need to worry… yet.


	13. Potato Salad

**A/N: The next few chapters are going to span across a bit of time. The story is about to ramp up and it will very quickly! Enjoy the quiet while you can! Let me know what you think! **

* * *

><p>I tossed over, the bed creaking loudly beneath me. I groaned, throwing my arm across my eyes, hiding the daylight. I lay still for a moment, letting my body wake itself up. The right side of my body was unnaturally cold, there should have been someone next to me. I flung my arm out, expecting it to collide with a warm body but was met with a mess of sheets. I squinted behind my arm, searching around the room. I couldn't see anyone. I groaned again, flipping my body over on to my stomach and shoving my face in the pillow next to mine. I took a deep breath, feeling the comfort in smelling his aftershave flood my nose. I burrowed myself further into the blankets, trying to go back to sleep when I heard the door to the bathroom open.<p>

"Mornin' love." His voice chipper.

I grumbled into the pillow, burying my face deeper into the pillow. He laughed loudly, too loudly for it being morning.

I tilted my head slightly, so that my mouth was showing and voiced my complaints, "Shush!"

I grabbed the remaining blankets not covering me and tucked them over my head, hiding from the world. I felt the bed sink in, where he'd sat down. My body was shimmied into the dip. His hand found my backside over the blankets and smacked it.

I peered through the blankets around my head and narrowed my eyes at him, "Go away."

He lowered his face closer to mine, "Time ta get up sweethear'."

I pushed my lip out in a pout and shook my head, cocooning my body and the blankets together.

He chuckled, "Always such a mornin' person." He stood back up, grabbing the towel draped over the chair in the corner, "I'm gonna take a shower. Yer welcome to join if ya want."

He threw me a smirk over his shoulder, and I narrowed my eyes again. He was trying to bribe me to get out of bed, something I didn't want to do. I cuddled back into the bed, listening as the water in the bathroom turned on. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for sleep to take over again, but had no such luck. Curse that Scottish bastard, ruining my sleep. I chucked the blankets away from me, lying spread eagle on the bed in only a bra and my boy short panties. I stared up at the ceiling, wondering what time it was. I whipped my head sideways, looking for a clock, sighing when I remembered that he didn't have one. I blindly searched the floor for my pants, or his. His were easier to find. I pulled them onto the bed, groping into the pockets, finding his phone quickly. I flipped it open, scrunching my eyes at the time on the screen.

**11:27 AM**

I bolted up in the bed, feeling the wildness of my hair but not caring. Was it really that late in the morning? I bent over the bed, both hands hunting for my pants. I hopped off the bed, picking up my jeans and shoving myself into them. I inspected the room around me. It was disaster. The man never cleaned up after himself. I bent to the floor, lifting up both dirty and clean clothes, looking for my shirt. I flung them around the room, my shirt still MIA.

I barged into the bathroom, "Où est ma chemise?"

"What?" Filip questioned from behind the shower curtain.

I smacked myself in the forehead, forgetting that no one here spoke French. It was too early to remember that I needed to speak English. Everyone needed to learn French dammit. It would make my life easier.

I poked my head behind the curtain, "Where is my shirt?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, giving me a grin.

I raised one of mine at him, "Filip…."

He showed me all of his teeth and cupped some water in his hands, flicking it at me. The water splashed across my face, down my neck and soaked my bra. I spit the water out of my mouth, glaring at the man in the shower.

He shrugged, faking innocence, "Looks like yer all wet now… Someone needs ta take a shower."

I didn't give in to what he wanted. If I did I'd be late for work, "Non. [_No._]"

I turned away from him, going to the sink and picking up the spare toothbrush. I turned the tap on, knowing that his shower would go from warm to cold in seconds. He bellowed with the temperature change and slid across the tub, away from the water spray. I giggled to myself, turning the tap off and biting down on my toothbrush. The curtain screeched open and I felt the freezing cold water drench my back and hair.

"FILIP!" I shrieked, spitting toothpaste all over the mirror.

* * *

><p>Tig rolled his eyes, hearing the commotion coming from his brother's dorm room. He rounded the corner, finding the Prospect already sitting at the bar.<p>

"Sounds like those two are awake, finally." Tig mumbled.

The Prospect nodded, agreeing with him. They both heard heels clacking on the tiled floor and found Gemma walking into the clubhouse.

She came over, hugging Tig, "Morning baby."

He smiled, returning the hug, "Morning mom."

"Those two up yet?" she flicked her head in the direction of the dorm rooms.

Tig rolled his eyes, "Only just."

"Good. I need to talk to Lee." She mentioned, as she walked away, down the hall.

* * *

><p>He turned the water off, and tied the towel around his hips, strutting out of the shower. I was busy wiping down the mess I'd made on the mirror when his arms snaked around my waist. I felt his warm breath on the back of my ear, as he left a tender kiss on the skin below. I resumed brushing my teeth, ignoring him completely. I was mad at him for soaking me twice this morning. He wrapped my hair up into one of his hands, swiping it to the side, letting his lips pepper across my shoulders to the other side of my neck. I watched him through the mirror, our eyes locking together with his last kiss. I smirked around my toothbrush, and he matched mine with one of his own.<p>

I bent forward, spitting out the toothpaste, and swishing some water through my mouth. I spit the excess water out, standing up straight.

"Ya still haven't told me where my shirt is." I murmured.

He ran his fingers along the underwire of my bra, "Ya don't need one."

I spun around, my own hands reaching for his sopping wet hair. I twirled a group of strands together, enjoying our little moment. His fingers kneaded into my shoulder blades, breaking up the tension and I let out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Yer all tense." He commented.

I moaned, "Its yer shitty bed." I leaned into him, letting his hands work their massaging magic, "We're sleepin' at my house from now on."

He chuckled, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. I stretched my arms up, working out any leftover tension when there was a loud knock on his dorm room door.

He left me alone in the bathroom, strolling to the door, "Yea?"

He opened the door and Gemma peered in, "You two decent?"

"Not entirely." He answered.

Instead of coming inside, she called over Filip's shoulder, "Lee! Stop by the office before you go to the restaurant. I have something I want to ask you."

I quirked an eyebrow, thinking about what Gem could want. I yelled back, "Alright."

Gemma left, her heels retreating back to the bar. Filip shut the door again, moving to the dresser beside the bed. I faced the mirror in the bathroom, weaving my fingers through my hair, pulling it back into a braid. Before I finished, Filip was dressed and leaning against the bathroom door, watching my fingers work.

"I'll never get tired of watchin' ya do that." He commented.

I smiled, "Of what? Me braidin' my hair?"

He nodded, holding up my wrinkled t-shirt. I shook my head, amused at what a closet romantic he was. I twisted a hair tie around the end of my braid and then snatched the shirt from Filip. I pulled it on over my head, smoothing my hands down the front of the shirt.

"Ugh. It's all wrinkled." I grumbled.

"Start leavin' extra clothes here then." Filip answered.

I rolled my eyes, "What did I just say about our sleepin' arrangements."

He didn't answer. I walked out of the bathroom as he shrugged into his TM work shirt. I picked up my purse up from where I'd tossed it on the floor last night. We both left his room, joining the few Sons that were sitting at the bar, drinking coffee.

"Mornin' boys." I greeted.

I was greeted back with a bunch of grunts and murmurs. I was surprised at how non-committal they were in the morning, especially this late in the morning. I knew I was a pain to wake up, but once I was up, I was up. There were a box of donuts sitting on the bar and I stole one, taking a bite out of half of it in one go. Filip grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee.

I kept going, rounding the bar, "See ya lata."

Another round of grunts was made, this time Filip joining them. I snuck a glance at him, to see him watching me retreat through the clubhouse door. I chuckled to myself. He always played the tough biker man in front of the rest of the guys. Never letting on that he liked me too much.

The sun was shining in the late morning, as I strolled across the lot to the office. I knocked on the open door, walking right inside.

"Ya wanted ta see me, Gem?" I questioned.

She looked up from her paperwork, sliding the glasses off smiling up at me.

"Morning baby." She stood up and pulled me in for a hug.

Hugging Gemma was something I still wasn't used too. She was only ever affectionate with the Sons and her family. I'd only technically been 'apart' of the family for a few months now but she'd taken warmly to me. To say it surprised me, would be an understatement. I wrapped my arms around her, embracing her.

"You busy this Sunday?" she asked.

I shook my head, "Of course not. It's family dinner night."

Her smile widened, "Good. Would you be able to do me a favour?"

"What kind of favour?" I asked.

She sat back down behind the desk, "Well the boys are always going on about the food from the restaurant."

"…And…" I urged her to continue.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me cook this Sunday." She finished.

I was silent for a minute. The Queen of all Queen's was asking for me to help out. I knew that she ordered the crow eaters around all the time, having them at her beck and call but this was different. She wasn't asking me to help clean up, or set the table; she was asking me to help cook the meal.

"Ya like Cajun food?" I asked her.

She shrugged, "It's not about me. It's about those boys."

I laughed, "Of course Gem. I'd be more than happy to help ya cook some dinner."

She clapped her hands together, "Perfect. Come over around 3 and we'll get to work. Ok?"

I nodded, "I'll be there."

* * *

><p>The week blew by and before I knew it, it was Sunday. I hadn't seen Filip since Monday, when Gemma first asked me to help her this weekend. The club was on a run, and wouldn't be coming back until around dinner time tonight. I called Gemma ahead of time, asking if she needed anything from the grocery. I ended up with a long list of things to grab. When I finally pulled up to her house, it was 3:15 PM. I cursed lightly, hating that I was late. I scooped up four bags, hauling them out of my trunk, shuffling to her side door. I knocked, the sound muffled by the bags I was holding.<p>

The door swung open, relief washing through her voice, "There you are!"

I strained a smile, "Sorry Gem. I lost track of time at the supermarket."

"Don't worry about it baby." She grabbed two bags from me, carrying them over to the high kitchen table she had.

"You two," she pointed at the empty-handed crow eaters, "Go get the rest of the groceries."

They both nodded, scurrying out the side door. For a split second I felt superior. I didn't really have anything against crow eaters, to each their own but now that I was with one of the Sons, it made me feel good when Gemma ordered them around.

"What's first on the agenda?" I clasped my hands together.

Gemma pulled a piece of paper off the fridge, placing it down on the table next to me. I glanced down while Gemma went back to unloading the groceries.

**· _Marinate meat_**

"Clay promised he'd be back in time to grill up all the steaks and kabobs." She mentioned in passing.

I rolled up my sleeves and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, no time to braid it now. For the next three hours, the two of us whirled around the kitchen, cooking up a storm and directing the crow eaters. Donna showed up at some point in the hours, delving in to helping with the set up and side dishes.

I was cooling the boiled potatoes down by running them under cold water in the sink. Gemma was in the dining room, rearranging the dishes on the table and bringing in the heaping plates of food. Most of the guys were either in the living room, conversing boisterously or outside in the back with Clay, smoking while he grilled up the protein. The side door next to the sink opened and in walked my favourite Son. I smiled at him, tucking some hair behind my ears. His eyes flicked around the kitchen, making sure that no one else was in sight, before he leaned in, kissing me on the cheek.

Before pulling away he hummed in my ear, "I missed ya."

A small blush crept up on my face. It had been a long time since a man had this kind of effect on me. He leaned into the counter, watching my every move as I started preparing another side dish. I broke up the potatoes, tossing them into a large serving dish. I chopped up the green onions into fine little pieces, scraping the knife across the cutting board dumping the pieces into the dish. I pulled out the mayonnaise, creole mustard and hard-boiled eggs out of fridge. I started chopping the eggs, when Filip suddenly spoke.

"What're ya makin'?" he asked

I stopped the knife, glancing at him, "Potato salad."

He eyed the eggs again and shook his head, putting a hand over mine to stop me from continuing.

"What?" I questioned him.

Still shaking his head, "That's not how ya make potato salad."

I scoffed at him, "Since when d'ya know how to make anythin'?"

His brows furrowed together, "Jus' because I don't cook often, doesn't mean I don't know how ta."

"Try cookin' ever…" I snorted.

I pulled my hand away from his, leaving the knife to sit on the cutting board. I opened the mayonnaise, scooping out dollops and mixing it into the potatoes. I turned to reach for the eggs, when he stopped me again.

"Seriously?" I griped.

His fingers tightened around my wrist, "Will ya listen ta me for once. That's not how ya make it."

"And ya would know, right?" I jeered.

He dropped my wrist with force, his voice raising, "I'm from Ireland, I should know a thing or two about potatoes."

"Yer from Scotland, Filip." I gave him a look of derision.

He picked up the dish of potatoes and manoeuvered around me, taking it out of my reach. I spun around, grabbing his upper arm and whipping him around to face me.

"Don't walk away from me." I yelled.

"I'm not lettin' ya ruin a good thing." He barked.

"Excuse me?" I shrieked.

At this point everyone had stopped to stare at us. It didn't matter where they had been in the house minutes ago, at this point in time, they were all crowded around the kitchen, watching the argument unfold between Filip and I.

Filip leaned in, enunciating each of his words, "I said, I'm not lettin' ya ruin a good thing."

I smacked him, offended. He just insulted my cooking. I raised both my hands, moving to shove him hard, but he let go of the dish, catching my wrists quickly, the dish shattering at our feet, potatoes covered in green onions and mayonnaise flying all over the place. A chunk of potato flew up and landed on my cheek. The entire house was hushed. No one wanted to interrupt the two of us. I was stressed from a long week at work, and worrying about Filip. Filip was exhausted from riding day and night. It didn't help that we both had explosive tempers. Filip and I stared at each other seething.

"Let go of my hands." I spat through clenched teeth.

He gripped them tighter in response. After a full minute, he loosened his grip and sighed heavily.

His eyes softened, the anger dissipating, "I just want to have a nice dinner and for us to go home. Is that too much to ask?"

In an instant my anger faded and I widened my eyes. Did he just refer to my house as home? Our home? He realized his slip up and dropped my hands, trying to avoid looking at me.

My voice softened to a whisper, "It could be… ya know."

His eyes met mine while I grabbed his hands in my own.

"Move in with me Filip." I continued.

His hands flexed in mine as he considered his answer. I know it was a big step… We'd been alternating between the clubhouse and my place for months now but to have him move in that was a huge step in the relationship department. Was he ready for that level of commitment? I didn't doubt that he was, but this made things more bona fide. The world around us disappeared while we stood in the center of the kitchen, waiting. I couldn't keep the hopeful expression from showing. His face was dark and brooding. He was certainly taking his time in making a decision. His hands contracted again, but this time they grouped mine in his. I tore my eyes away from his, admiring how small my hands appeared in-between his. I had a strong fondness for his rough and calloused hands. They always made me feel safe. Never in my life had I ever needed a man, but to have one in my life that could provide for me and keep me safe, without asking, was something I was beginning to appreciate.

Filip bent towards me, pecking me on the lips, "Let's finish up here and then spend a quiet night together, in _our_ home."

I kissed him back, smiling at the sound of him calling it our home. Our moment was interrupted by loud hoots and hollering. I let out a laugh, forgetting that we were in someone else's house. Filip pulled back, realizing that everyone was watching us. He looked on to his brothers who were clapping along now, making comments about him being 'whipped'. He glanced down at the mess round our feet.

I smiled, "Go on. I'll get this cleaned up. We don't need them makin' fun of ya even more than they already are."

He squeezed my hands again, a sign of affection, before walking over to the other side of the kitchen. I shook my head as I bent down, picking up the large pieces of glass up off the floor. He was such a private person, even in front of his own brothers. He always went out of his way to make sure no one was around, before showing any form of devotion to me. I didn't mind all that much because it made him three times as more loving when we were alone. After tonight's reaction, I think I understood why he was shy to show any form of emotion. Unless he was smacking my ass while I bent over, or copping a feel of my breast in front of those boys, he'd be made fun of mercilessly.

Two hands joined mine in picking up the glass pieces. I glanced upwards, to find Gemma bent over and helping me.

I cringed, "I'm so sorry Gem. I'll replace the dish immediately."

She smiled at me, actually smiled at me and chuckled, "Don't worry about it sweetheart."

"No really. I'll find you the exact same one." I insisted.

She reached out, patting my shoulder, "No baby. I'm just glad to see Chibs as happy as he is when he's with you."

I let out a bark of laughter, "Are ya sure about that? We don't get along very well."

We both stood up and she joined my laughter, "That's what makes you two good for each other. You keep each other on your toes. You don't take his shit, and he doesn't take yours."

I thought about what she said. It made perfect sense. We agreed on nearly nothing, but cared so deeply for each other, it could combust at any second. The two of us cleaned up the mess in the kitchen quickly, and gathered everyone around the dining room table for dinner.

Filip and I sat beside each other for the meal. There was a new tension in the room between us, not a bad one but not a sexual one either. I was hyper aware of his body next to mine. We found every reason under the sun to touch each other; whether it was passing a plate of food, or reaching over and grabbing something in reach, we made sure that there was always some sort of contact between the two of us. I could feel it in my bones; tonight was going to be a good one.


	14. Leave You Breathless Or With A NastyScar

**A/N: Here's the last chapter of unbelievable sweetness between these two lovers! Let me know what you think. **

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><p>It was late afternoon when he finally roused from his sleep. He'd gotten home early in the morning, around five. Eva had been sleeping peacefully when he came in. He hadn't expected to see her in bed, knowing that she left on another job, soon after he did. He assumed she'd still be out on the open road.<p>

He glanced at the clock on their dresser, seeing that it was almost three in the afternoon. He yawned, still overly tired but got out of bed. He pulled on his favourite pair of grey sweats and trudged to the other side of the room. He pulled the door open, instantly overwhelmed by the strong waft of something delicious cooking. With a broad smile, he went to make his way to the kitchen but was stopped by something poking out of their dresser, in the corner of his eye. He let go of the door, turning to his left to see the edge of a piece of paper sticking out of one of Eva's drawers.

He figured it was just some old print out from one of her past jobs, but there was something compelling him to delve further, find out what that paper was. He pried the drawer open and found a stack of papers, loosely hidden under a few of her t-shirts. He picked up the stack, leafing through them. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He turned towards the door, closing it again, hoping that she didn't decide to come in and check on him. He carried the papers back to the bed where he sat down. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. She had picture after picture of crows; some existing tattoos, some sketched art. He found her scrawling writing appear on a few of the papers, notes on the design, positions, and additions.

He was completely floored. Was she planning to get his crow? Had she already gotten it as a surprise? He wasn't sure how he felt about that. They'd been exclusive for a long while now, but were they in a position to be making such claims to one another? He'd never loved another woman, other than Fiona. Fiona… she was still his wife, for all intents and purposes. He knew he could never give that part of himself to Eva. He didn't even know if she wanted marriage. One thing he did know was that Fiona had never offered, nor wanted to get his crow. She'd made that clear as soon as he joined up with SAMBEL. His fingers crinkled around the papers, as he sat there staring into nothingness.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Flashback<strong>_

_I walked into the clubhouse, looking for Filip. I'd gotten a late confirmation on another job, that I needed to leave for soon and wanted to say a quick goodbye._

_"Hey kid!" I called from the door. _

_The Prospect looked up from where he was sitting, a smile taking over his features, "Lee! What brings you around?" _

_I winked, pulling him into a light hug, "Oh ya know, just missing my favourite Puerto Rican." _

_He laughed, "Shhh, don't let Chibs hear you say that." _

_"He can't deny our love." I winked, joking playfully with him. _

_I loved the kid. He was a great guy. He and Filip had grown close, so I had him around the house often enough that I felt like a substitute mother to him. I'd noticed that Filip had taken the kid under his wing, giving him guidance and tips. Helping him come to terms with the lifestyle he was making a pledge too. _

_"Speaking of Filip," I started, "Ya know where I can find the man?" _

_Ortiz nodded, "Out with Jax; picking up another repo." _

_"Ahhh." I grumbled. _

_"Something wrong?" Ortiz asked. _

_I smiled, "Not at all. I just wanted to say goodbye, that's all." _

_The kid's eyes widened with worry. _

_I chuckled, "I'm going out-of-town for a job. Did ya think I'd leave ya high and dry?"_

_"Phew! You had me worried. Who would feed me and let me sleep in their spare room?" he commented. _

_I shook my head, gazing around the empty clubhouse. All the guys were either working out in the garage, or out doing club stuff. They normally left the kid behind, knowing he was a techie, and had him wait by the phone for them to call so he could look something up on the internet. _

_I sighed, "If he comes back soon, will ya let him know ta come home for a quick sec. I don't want ta leave town without seeing him." _

_The kid nodded, taking a swig of his water bottle. _

_"Thanks cutie." I kissed him on the cheek. _

_Before I was able to leave the clubhouse entirely, I heard bickering come from behind me. I turned to find two crow eaters emerging from the kitchen. _

_"You know he has an old lady." The blonde warned._

_The dark-haired one snorted, "Like that matters. She doesn't have his crow, and he'll take me in an instant when I tell him I'll gladly take his crow." _

_The blonde rolled her eyes, "I don't think you want to mess with Chibs' old lady. She's fierce." _

_"Whatever. He was sleeping with me before she came along. I'll lure him back somehow." The brunette promised. _

_I gaped, my mouth open. I had to actually stop myself from bursting into laughter. Who did this little thing think she was? I leaned against the door, making my presence known, by hitting the bottom of my foot against the it. Ortiz rolled his eyes, annoyed with the two sweetbutts. I rotated my body slightly to the right, showing off the Glock .34 resting in its holster. I rarely ever carried a weapon on me. My specialty was killing people with their own means, not using mine but there were times that I did need to carry for my own protection. Lately I'd been carrying, due to the Mayans and SAMCRO turf war becoming worse by the second. _

_The blonde saw me first and choked on whatever her response was going to be. The brunette gave her a condescending look and then turned in my direction. She froze in place. I let my hand fall, absently brushing against my gun. I gave her a chilling grin, and watched as a terrified shiver ran down her spine. I winked, pulling the gun from its place and cocking it back. The sound echoed throughout the room, causing the blonde to jump. Ortiz stared on, an amused glint in his eyes. The brunette gulped, standing still as a statue. _

_I strolled over to her, confident in my stride. I purposely let my hips swing, more than usual, adding emphasis to my body type. When I reached her, I laid the cold metal of my gun against her cheek, glaring deeply into her eyes. I didn't speak or make a sound. I forced the gun to glide across her jaw, up to her temple. I tapped it harshly against the side of her face. _

_"I've warned ya once, be careful what ya say around me. Ya don't want me on yer bad side." I forced the words through my clenched teeth, "Consider this yer one and only pass. Go near him and ya won't see the light of anotha day." _

_I tilted the gun against her temple, flicking my finger turning the safety off. She heard the click and her eyes popped. She had thought I was actually going to shoot her right then and there. When she realized what I had done, or not done for that matter, she burst into tears. The blonde grabbed her upper arm, rushing the two of them around me and out the front door. _

_Ortiz laughed, "You're fucking terrifying, Lee."_

_I gave him a warm smile, "Only when I need to be." _

_I left the clubhouse, catching sight of the two crow eaters across the lot. The blonde trying to console the brunette. I jammed my sunglasses on, hiding my eyes from the two, making my way over to my car. I drove off the lot, keeping a close watch on the girls through my rear-view. They both watched me intently as I drove away. I hung my hand out the window, giving a cheeky wave, before disappearing around the corner._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Flashback<strong>_

_"Hey Gem…" I called, climbing out of the SUV, "Can I ask you a question?"_

_ Gemma shut her car door, coming around the front to meet me on the other side, "What?" _

_ I paused, hesitant about how to word my question. She raised an eyebrow at me. _

_ "Lee…" she pushed. _

_ I sighed, meeting her gaze, "What's a crow?" _

_ Her eyes grew, surprised at my question. We both stood leaning against her SUV, outside of Stockton's shopping centre._

_"Did Chibs' say something?" she pried. _

_I shook my head, "I overheard one of the crow eater's mentionin' somethin' called a crow. I can only assume it has something to do with them."_

_Gemma breathed a laugh of contrite, "No sweetie, it has nothing to do with them."_

_I eyed her, the question still sitting on my face. She beckoned me to follow her and we walked up to the doors of the centre. She and I had planned this little shopping trip for some relief. SAMCRO and the Mayans were ramping up in their hostility and it was taking its toll on the two of us. We needed a breath away from the guys for an afternoon. That didn't stop them from having the Prospect follow us around though. I did my best to ignore the kid, as he walked a few metres behind us, keeping an eye out. _

_Gemma turned, making sure Juice was out of hearing distance, before continuing, "The crow is a branding." _

_"Ok…." I waited for more of an explanation. _

_She angled towards me, pulling down on her low-cut tank top, showing me the black crow tattoo appearing over her heart, "This is Clay's. It's a symbol, or sign, that I'm his and he's mine." _

_I cringed, recalling the conversation that the brunette sweetbutt was having with her friend._

_"What did you hear?" she quizzed. _

_I ran my tongue across my teeth, "The brunette crow eater… She was telling one of the other girls that she was going to convince Filip that she would take his crow…"_

_Gemma stopped walking, grabbing my arm to stop me as well, "She what?!"_

_I shrugged, "He's never once asked me about it. It shouldn't matter." _

_"No, baby, it does matter. That little whore has no right to speak like that around you. You're his old lady, crow or not. She needs to respect that." Gemma's voice was thin and cold. _

_"I didn't let it slide," I smirked, "You know me. I threatened her with her life and she ran away crying. That's not the point though. Even if I am his old lady, getting the crow is apparently a big thing amoung you. He's never asked or even mentioned it. Maybe he's not as serious about this coupling as I had thought. It's been months Gem and he's married. I can't expect him to just give everything up for me." _

_Gemma pulled me into a caring embrace, whispering in my ear, "Never doubt how that man feels about you baby. He's head over heels for you. It's clear to everyone. You don't have any tattoos, right?" _

_I nodded. _

_"He knows, yes?" _

_I nodded again._

_"That could be the reason right there. He could be thinking that you're the one who will turn him down, if he was to ask." Gemma concluded. _

_I sighed, realizing the truth in Gemma's words. Filip and I never talked about tattoos. He knew I didn't have any and I knew he had his. I even admired the ones he had. I was iffy about branding myself permanently with anything. It was why I'd never gotten a tattoo in the first place. Every time I played with the idea, I always came back to the same thought, 'what if I didn't like it in 5 years, or 10, or 15, or 20'. I needed to be a hundred and fifty percent sure of everything, meaning a tattoo was never an option for me._

* * *

><p>"What smells delicious?" he asked upon entering the kitchen.<p>

She whipped around at the sound of his voice, a smile wide across her face. He grinned, thrilled that he got to wake up to that face every day. He stepped over to her, kissing her lightly on her exposed shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her abdomen and peered over her shoulder, seeing what she was cooking.

She hummed at his touch, the feel of his hands still sending jolts through her body. No matter the amount of time they'd been together, he always had the same effect on her. She turned into him, nuzzling the side of his face. He chuckled, catching her chin, brushing his lips against hers. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing deeply, eyes closed.

She was first to open her eyes, turning back to the stove to stir what was in the pot.

"What's that?" he asked again.

"Gumbo." She answered.

He didn't speak just held her tighter in response. There were days when he was convinced that he had died, or was living a dream. He had a woman in his life again. A beautiful, dark-haired woman. At the thought of her hair, he skimmed a hand down the tight braid. He frowned slightly, having missed being able to watch her fold her hair into the beautiful artwork she worked. He leaned forward, placing his nose into her hair, taking a deep breath. He inhaled her scent, a mixture of jasmine and the food cooking.

He pictured her body in his mind, where would a crow fit on her? Her skin was so delicate and smooth. As much as he cared for her, he was content with her body being virgin of any ink. Did he really want her to scar herself, just for him? He took another breath…. The smell of jasmine swirling through his brain. The answer was yes, he wanted her to be his in every way.

He kissed the top of her head, running his lips down to her ear, "How do ya feel abou' tattoos?"

She shrugged, a small laugh coming out, "I like yers."

He couldn't help but smile. If she thought he was suddenly self-conscious about his own, she was wrong.

"I meant for you." He clarified.

She titled her head to the side, "I've never found anythin' that I could commit too. Nothin' has ever caught my eye long enough ta warrant bein' permanent."

He resisted his cringe. Is that why she was hiding all those designs? Was she unable to find anything that she could commit too? Was this her subtle way of telling him that she would never accept his crow? He tightened his arms around her middle, preparing for the worst possible answer.

Breathing into her neck, he asked, "What abou' a crow?"

There it was. He felt her entire body stiffened against his. He held on to her wishing he'd never asked in the first place. He already had one woman rip his heart out. Was he ready for a second?

Her voice was robotic, "Why d'ya ask?"

He sighed, "I found the stack of designs in yer drawer."

She spun around, knocking him a step back.

"You went through my things?!" She shrilled.

He clenched his teeth, "If ya don't want to be with me just say it."

Confusion flared across her face. She couldn't figure out why he'd think something like that. He bunched his hands into fists, ready to storm out. She calmed herself down, realizing the negative effect her initial response had caused. In his own subtle way, he was asking her to take his crow; accept it; be branded.

She ran a finger along his jaw murmuring, "Is that what ya think? Ya think I don't want ta be with you?"

It was his turn to be confused. Her mood had changed too abruptly for him to comprehend. He shivered at her touch.

"I don't know." He huffed.

She shook her head, "None of those designs embodied you." She tapped his cheekbone, "That's why they're sittin' in the drawer, covered in markings and notes." She hung her head, "I didn't want ta suggest anythin' until I found the perfect one; the one that was you, through and through."

He cast his attention back up to hers. Did hear what he thought he just did? He processed her words, gazing at her blank daze.

"I don't know what ta say." He finally blurted.

She let out a nervous laugh, "Now it's my turn to think you don't want ta be with me…"

He drew her back into him, his hands flat against her back. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

She muttered into his shoulder, "Just tell me ya want me."

He planted the frame of her face with kisses, uttering the words in between each one, "I'll always want ya. Never let yerself think otherwise."

Her hands dug into the groves of his back in response. She squeezed him, keeping him as close as possible. When she loosed her grip, he nudged her backwards, admiring her. Their eyes locked on one another's and he smiled.

"We can look for one together." He suggested.

Her smile matched his, full of tenderness, "Of course."

They pulled each other back in for another embrace. His fingers caressed the tresses of her hair. He held her close to him, feeling the warmth of her body and the beating of her heart. He couldn't help but think of Fiona in this moment. Eva was something completely different from his wife, but the woman in his arms had fallen for him, even with the baggage that he carried around with him. Fiona wasn't as strong as her. He pushed another light kiss to the side of her head. He couldn't give her a ring, but he was giving her something even more important to him. Something Fiona had outright refused when he asked.


	15. Rose Garden Filled with Thorns

**A/N: I recommend listening to the song that got me through this chapter, as you read it. Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding. Disclaimer I do not own the song and all rights are reserved to whomever they belong too. Things are about to get intense. **

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><p>I stood in front of the mirror, my ribbed tank top folded up exposing my middle. I was angled sideways, with all my supplies laid out on the counter top. I had never done something like this before, so as per my insane cleanliness, I made sure that I was taking care of the fresh ink on my body. Instead of my usual braid, I had my hair twisted up and twirled into a bun. A few tendrils fell out from the folds, annoying me beyond all belief. I wiped away my stray hairs with the back of hand, clearing my vision. I rubbed a glob of unscented cream between my hands, rubbing it deeply into the fresh ink. The cream gave me a soothing sensation, easing the perpetual itch that covered my right side. After I immersed the cream into my skin, I paused, running a finger along the slightly bumped darkened skin. A sentimental smile crept onto my face.<p>

* * *

><p><em>We had spent close to two weeks looking for a design that we both loved; one that I was comfortable with permanently adding to my body, and one that grasped all the aspects of the man I was making this ode too. We had finally found the perfect design, a Celtic crow. The wingspan was immense, but I figured 'go big or go home'.<em>

* * *

><p>With affectionate care, I traced my finger along the wings, admiring the black contrast on my skin. The tip of one wing started on my hip bone, stretching up to my ribcage. The beak of the crow was tilted upwards, towards my heart.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Together we added a few essential elements to the design; held within the beak was the Scottish flag, all black and white, as well as the national flower; a thistle, was hanging loosely from just under the flag. Once we had the entire idea and horribly drawn design, we took everything to Happy. Happy was delighted that we went to him, and we were firm in telling him that no one was to know about this. Not until it was finished. <em>

_As I laid across the pool table, allowing Happy to set up his tools, I kicked Filip out of the clubhouse. He wanted to be there to support me through my first tattoo, especially one that was going to be in a place that caused quite a bit of pain. What he didn't know was that I had one more alteration I wanted added to the crow, one that I wanted to be a surprise for him. Once Filip had finally given up and left the clubhouse, Happy and I remained quiet, while he started the outline. When he was ready to start filling in the intricate patterns, I stopped him. I took the original drawing from him, showing him where I wanted the extra element added. _

My finger reached the middle of the breast on the crow, representing the heart. Within that pattern, I had worked in his name, Filip Telford, beautifully. The letters were infused, delicately weaved into the pattern of the Celtic design. Only a trained eye would be able to detect the change in the traditional sequence. I'd never forget his reaction to the subtle change.

_Once Hap and I finished our too long session, I called Filip back in, letting his eyes wander, examine and appreciate the difference in my appearance. His hand laid flat against the clear plastic covering, touching each sore spot with a new tenderness. I could see the love in his eyes, working to escape, but he kept that true biker's composure. The only change being behind his deep chocolate coloured eyes. His familiar smirk was plastered across his face; proud. Happy left us be, giving us a few moments to ourselves, before the club bombarded us with questions surrounding our secrecy. Once Hap was out the door, I was thrust into a passionate embrace, our lips connecting with force and appreciation. I pulled back, wanting him to discover my little secret. His gaze mapped the swirled lines, admiring the true workmanship done by his brother. I felt the change in his body, before the reaction took over. Embarrassed and worried for his reaction, I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to hear what he'd say. _

_In nothing more than a whisper I heard, "Is… is that what I think it is?" _

_I peeked through one eye to find him staring at the breast of the bird. I nodded, a lump in my throat, "Do ya like it?" _

_His index finger traced the tiny letters. I shivered at the touch, still without an answer. _

_"Tha' why ya kicked me out?" He asked. _

_Unable to speak I nodded again. His eyes flashed, absolute infatuation shading the colour. We sat in a lulled quietness. Those three words had never been spoken between us, but it was clear we both felt the same. I could feel it in his touch, he could see it in my tribute to him. _

_Both his hands curved into the sides of my face, holding me near. His eyes searching for something in mine. When he found the deep-seated desire to have his approval there, he leaned in, brushing his lips to mine. I gave him all control in those moments; something I couldn't readily remember ever doing for anyone. _

_Our kissed finished with him leaning his forehead against mine, both our eyes closed. He whispered, his tone saturated in emotion, "Thank ya." _

_I brought my hands up to his wrists, circling around them. I didn't answer with words, instead I leaned into him heavily. Enjoying the simple interaction between us. The interaction that encompassed all the love we shared for each other._

* * *

><p>I smiled at the memory as I pulled my shirt back down. It had been a week since we left the clubhouse that day, announcing to everyone I was 'officially' an old lady. Gemma was exploding with approval. I pulled my track pants back up, covering the tip of the wing. Gemma had been so happy that day that she all but forced Filip and I into getting pictures taken together. She had stopped by a few days ago, dropping off the developed pictures she'd taken.<p>

Walking into the living room, I decided that tonight was a great night for listening to some of my favorite tunes. I lifted the glass case on my record player. It had been awhile since I'd used it, but all the best music I owned belonged to that player. I pulled out my favourite Otis Redding album, settling it on the turntable gently, flicking the switch, turning on the player. With mellow movements, I placed the needle down on the record, hearing the familiar buzz of the speakers coming to life.

I sat on the couch, the frame opened on the table and the two photos in my lap. The first was a typical picture, him and I standing side by side, my smile shy but still visible, his non-existent with an almost scowl forming on his face. It was the second picture that I loved. This picture summed up our relationship to each other perfectly. Gemma had managed to take the one picture and when I noticed he was sans a smile, I chided him. The next picture that Gemma snapped was of me forcefully pushing his cheeks up into a smile, and Filip's scowl showing more than ever. Looking at the picture you can almost hear the heated words between us. True to our fashion, we ended up screaming and yelling at one another about the whole ordeal. Me being frustrated that he wouldn't even smile for a damned picture, and him being frustrated that I was trying to force the emotion out of him.

I laughed out loud, placing the pictures side by side in the frame. I latched the backing into the frame, holding the pictures in place. I glanced around the room, searching for the perfect spot to hang this one up. Along the wall, where I had a few other photographs, mostly of New Orléans hanging, I found the perfect place where I could put our frame up. I found my tools for hanging decorations up, and levelly placed a hook in the wall. I left the supplies at my feet, turning to pick up the frame. I bobbed my head along to the song playing, one of my all-time favourites; Try A Little Tenderness. I hummed the lyrics while positioning the frame on the wall. Before I was able to secure the frame on the hook I was distracted. I felt his hands glide up from my hips to my waist.

I sighed, my eyes fluttering shut with his touch, "Mon amore. [_My love._]"

"Vous reconnaissez mon contact si facilement? [_You recognize my touch so easily?_]" the man breathed into my neck.

My eyes snapped open. _No… It couldn't be…_ The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. My palms immediately began to perspire, loosening my hold on the frame. My entire spine stiffened at the closeness of the man behind me. His hands still securely on my waist. I stared at the hook in the while, my mind spiraling out of control.

Another whisper, "Je pensais que tu serais heureux de me voir? [_I thought you'd be happy to see me?_]"

I opened my mouth, trying to speak but all that came out was a distressed gurgle. I heard as he chuckled darkly into my shoulder. His hands tightened around my sides, digging into my freshly tattooed skin causing me to flinch. He caught my reaction, delicately lifting the hem of my tank top upwards, noting the black that displayed across my side.

"Qu'avons-nous ici? [_What do we have here?_]" he murmured into my ear.

The sound of his voice sent my body into turmoil. Everything from our past emerging with force. My stomach rolled, my body produced a profuse line of sweat, and my eyes rolled back. My fight or flight reflexes finally kicked in, tremors flooding through my body, shaking with such force that I lost all grip on the frame in my hands. I watched with despair, unable to reign in my composure. I watched as all sense of reality dropped from my hands. My entire life slipped away from me in that moment. I did nothing as my existence plummeted to the ground in front of me. The frame slammed into the ground, the glass shattering into a million different pieces. The glass embodied my sense of reality, fragments now lost to never be reconnected. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was confident that I heard the gravel of Filip's tone, laced with fury.

"Get yer hands off my woman…"

Time froze around me. I was no longer a part of my earthly body. I was oblivious to the scuffle that had broken out behind me. I observed as my body bent down, trembling with panic. My hands inched towards the shattered glass, desperately trying to piece them back together. I heard the same lyrics, repeated over and over, in Otis Redding's soulful tone, "try a little tenderness…" The piano crescendo skipping excessively, playing harshly on my already devastated mind. The more I tried to assemble the pieces of my reality back together, the more agitated I became.

With a tiny prick, I was brought back soaring into my body. The tears leaked from the side of my eyes, my hands drenched in my blood, dripping onto the glass. From behind me I heard a loud smash and snapped my head to the side. Filip had a solid hold on the intruder, his fist smashing numerous times into his face. I stumbled upwards, placing my hands on Filip's still arm. The blood covering me caused my hands to slip and I lost my balance, falling into the side table.

"S-s-stop… Filip." I managed to wheeze.

He dropped the other man abruptly, falling to his knees, and hoisting me back up. His eyes searched mine, questions forming on his face.

"Call the club." I whispered, "Get them here."

He let go of me, understanding the need for protection in my eyes. He heaved the beaten man back up violently, dragging him into the kitchen. I turned away, finding myself stepping over the crushed glass on the floor and stopped in front of the sliding glass doors, leading to the back yard. I stared at my reflection, my arms crossed, one finger tapping in a repeated rhythm, keeping my sanity at the forefront of my mind. With practiced ease, I built a box around my insecurities, hiding them away from my consciousness. He was back for a reason. I didn't have the slightest idea as to why, but here he was. Back in my life, almost six years later.

I heard the steps coming to join me, Filip's silhouette in the reflection of the window, showing the concern written on his face.

"The boys are here." He murmured.

The warmth from his body flooded through mine and I took comfort in him being near. Somehow he knew, knew not to touch me. Our eyes locked gazes through the reflection. I nodded curtly. He stood behind me, a being of support. His presence gave me the boost I needed. That man, sitting in the kitchen, surrounded by the Sons of Anarchy was no one of importance. I had my family; Filip was my family, SAMCRO was my family. Not the man breaking his way back into my life. Filip gave me the resolve I needed to confront him, find out why he was here. Without knowing it, Filip gave me more strength than I harboured on my own. It frightened me as I came to that realization, but all the same, it gave me a will that I needed. I knew that no matter what was said in the moments to come, I wouldn't lose my family. Those boys were a part of me now.


	16. Beauregard Decoudreau

**A/N: Please forgive my sometimes horrible French. I need more practice! Quick note on pronunciation - when Beau and Eva say the name 'Raymond' the 'd' at the end is silent. It sounds more like 'Raymon'. **

* * *

><p>I absently rubbed my hands over my tank, turning to walk into the kitchen. The entire club was surrounding the lone man in the middle of the kitchen. I hooked a chair in my hand, dragging it along with me. The scrapes of noise the chair made the men in the room zero their gazes in on me. Filip took his place, standing in the empty spot, where the chair had sat previously. I spun the chair around, sitting down, staring at the battered man in front of me.<p>

His left eye had started to swell closed and his lower lip was puffed up, purple in colour. Filip had really done a number on him. Besides the blood and swelling, Beau was still a handsome man. He was mixed, half white half black. His eyes were a light shade of blue, almost grey, and his hair was a dirty blonde, tightly curled. He was a broad man, very muscular and tall. He sat in the chair across from me, his legs spread out, wrists tied together with zip ties resting in his lap. He held his head high, just like Raymond had taught, not allowing an ounce of discomfort to show. He was chewing on his lower lip, a nervous tic that only I would notice. I glanced around the room, taking in the solemn faces of the Sons. I took a deep breath, reeling in on my emotions; steeling my nerves.

"What are ya doin' here, Beau?" I breathed out.

He narrowed his one good eyed scoffing, "As-tu oublié ta langue maternelle? [_Have you forgotten your mother tongue?_]"

"Non, mais il est impoli de parler une langue étrangère devant les autres. [_No, but it's rude to speak a foreign language in front of others._]" I responded.

I sensed the skepticism within the room; the Sons shifted in their places. They were out of their element, not knowing what was being said.

Beau smirked evilly, "Est-ce que tu as parcouru? Couchage avec les motards sales? [_Is this where you've been? Sleeping around with dirty bikers?_]"

I shook my head, astonished at his audacity.

I refused to give him the dignity of answering so I posed another question, "Tu es en évitant ma question. Pourquoi es-tu ici? [_You're avoiding my question. Why are you here?_]"

He gathered the spit in his mouth, expelling it on my face, "Putain! [_Whore!_]"

His reaction caused the men around me to stir, moving in closer around us. Filip trailing the closest, a murderous expression on his face. I held my hand up, stopping the men in their tracks.

I wiped my other hand down my face, "Don't. Let me handle this."

They all stopped advancing, but didn't back away.

"Voyez comment ils me protègent? Voilà plus que je peux dire pour tu. [_See how they protect me? That's more than I can say for you._]" I illustrated, "Nous pouvons le faire facilement, tu et moi, ou tu peux traiter avec eux dans son ensemble. Tu choix. [_We can do this easily, you and me, or you can deal with them as a whole. You choose._]"

We both remained silent, while I let him come to his own decision. Once I determined that I'd given him enough time to weigh his options I started again.

"Je vais te poser une dernière fois. Pourquoi es-tu ici? [_I'll ask you one last time. Why are you here?_]"

He shook his head furiously, "Traître! [_Traitor!_]"

I pursed my lips, my eyebrows raising. He was trying my patience and I had half a mind to allow the club torture him for the information. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms counting down from sixty; giving him a full minute to reconsider his actions. He glared at me, knowing exactly what I was doing.

He huffed, "Fine! Fine!"

I waved one hand, allowing him to elaborate.

"Raymond." He only needed to say the name for the anger to erupt within me.

My knuckles turned white and I could feel my nails dig into my own arms. Beau smirked, seeing the subtle reaction.

"Le roi de la Nouvelle-Orléans a été appelé. Ses compétences nécessaires en Californie. [_The King of New Orleans was called. His expertise needed in California._]" He explained.

"Qui? Qui a besoin de son aide? [_Who? Who needs his help?_]" I prodded.

I waited, fighting the urge to move closer to him.

Beau shrugged, scanning the men around him, "Les Espagnols sont superstitieux. Ils ont demandé à notre roi vaudou pour les bénir. [_The Spanish are superstitious. They asked our voodoo king to bless them._]"

I raised an eyebrow holding in the scoff forming, "Les Espagnols…? The Mayans? [_The Spanish_]"

Clay perked up, having heard me ask about the Mayans. I lifted my eyes to his pointed glare, silently asking him to stay put. I still needed to figure out what 'blessing' Raymond was here to give. Raymond was a notorious drug dealer in Louisiana, and well renowned. I knew that the Mayans were in the heroin trade, so from what I could deduce, Raymond was here to 'bless' them with his expertise on heroin trafficking.

Beau didn't speak his answer, only nodded in confirmation. I wiped a hand down my face. This complicated a lot. If Raymond was here working with the Mayans, he could easily find me too, especially now that I was tied to the club. There was something bothering me about this whole encounter. If Beau was here on business for Raymond, he wouldn't have been this easy to get answers out of. There must be another reason he was here.

"Raymond doesn't know yer here, does he?" It was a rhetorical question.

He froze, shutting down any visible facial expressions. I furrowed my brow at him.

"Why did ya come?" I asked.

He cast his eyes, down and away from me. He murmured, "Pour te voir. [_To see you._]"

I scoffed a bitter laugh, "Tu es venu me voir? Pourquoi voudrais-tu faire cela? [_You came to see me? Why would you do that?_]"

The men around me hadn't realized the turn of the conversation. We were no longer talking about Raymond and his business in NorCal, but particularly why Beau came to see me. What did he hope to accomplish by entering my life again? We'd already cut ties to each other, long ago.

"Je t'ai manqué. [_I've missed you._]" He muttered.

"Bullshit!" I screamed abruptly, startling the Sons.

Filip saw the glint of anger coursing through me and took a few steps forward, standing directly behind Beau's right shoulder.

I hissed at Beau, "Ne me mens pas! Dois-je vous rappeler que ce vous qui avez éloigné de moi?! [_Don't lie to me! Do I need to remind you that it was you who walked away from me?!_]"

He bowed his head lower, obviously recalling the last time we saw each other.

I snorted, "Ce qui a changé? Raymond enfin montrer ses vraies couleurs? [_What changed? Raymond finally show his true colours?_]"

He whipped his head back up to me, fire surging through his eyes, "Ne vous avisez pas dire du mal de lui. Il est notre roi; notre sauveur. [_Don't you dare speak ill of him. He is our king; our saviour._]"

"Ton roi pas le mien. [_Your king not mine._]" I sneered.

I could feel the tension building between us. This wasn't going to end well, but it needed to happen. Beau sat forward, spitting blood from his lip into my face for a second time.

He whispered, "Traître… [_Traitor…_]"

I lashed out, shoving his shoulders backwards, raising up out of my chair. I yanked the bottom of my tank top up, pulling down the right side of track pants, showing the whole room my pelvic bone.

"I'm the traitor? Who was it that gave me this?" I screamed at him in English.

My hand jerked across the jagged scar that descended from my hip into my pelvic area, "You're precious 'king' was who gave me this. Do you not remember?"

Beau upturned his head, pretending to look down on me. I let out a yell of aggravation, clutching the back of my chair, whipping it around and smashing it against Beau's torso. He grunted out in pain, doubling over, as the chair broke into pieces around his body. The other men in the room were too stunned to react, watching the entire scene play out in front of them.

My voice was harsh as I whispered, "Do you know why he choose to cut me here? Of all places?"

Beau refused to acknowledge me. I grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks in my grasp, forcing his face to look at the scar on my body.

"Do you?" I roared.

He stared at the scar, long and hard. My breathing was haggard, my chest heaving up and down with my heart pumping too fast, blood coursing through my veins laced in adrenaline.

I bent down levelling our faces, "J'étais enceinte… avec des jumeaux. [_I was pregnant… with twins._]"

The words seeped out of my mouth. Beau's eyes flickered back and forth between my face and the scar. Remorse covered his face, finally coming to the realization of the truth. He fell to his knees in front of me, his face still being held up with my hands. I dropped his chin, backing away. I stumbled, trying to get away from his prying gaze, grasping for something to steady me. The tears were welling in his eyes as the information sank deeper into his conscious. He lifted his bound hands, placing them flat on my lower stomach. He laid his cheek against me, the wetness of his tears cascading down my abdomen.

I let out a strangled choke, unable to form words. My entire body began to shut down. I never imagined this scene ever taking place. I had wiped my hands clean of Beau and Raymond after that night. Beau refused to believe anything other than the lies falling from Raymond's mouth.

"Je vis avec le rappel de ce que je perds tous les jours. Maintenant, ce sera votre tour. _[I live with the reminder of what I lost every day. Now it's your turn._]" I cursed, instilling the guilt into him.

I felt as his lips twitched against my stomach. I had been so caught up in my own turmoil that I hadn't registered that he was speaking.

"Mes bébés. [_My babies._]" he repeated, endlessly, kissing the line of my jagged scar.

When Filip noticed his lips on my body, he lost it. He charged forward, grabbing a fist of Beau's shirt, yanking him away from me. My eyes locked with Filip's and he gauged the level of severity the conversation had taken. He nodded, allowing me my escape, keeping a tight hold on Beau.

Robotically I moved out of the kitchen, the Sons blocking the doorway dispersing giving me the space I needed. Beau's body convulsed behind me, sobs emanating from him loudly, as he mourned for the children he'd never have. I didn't turn around. It was his turn to learn to live with his consequences, I was done paying for his mistakes.

I mechanically walked through my living room, pushing the back door open and stepping into the cool night's breeze. I attempted to take a deep breath, wanting to calm myself down. A phantom pain erupted through my lower abdomen. I choked on the night air, clutching at my scar, tears spilling from the corner of my eyes. I fell to my knees, one hand landing harshly on the ground, keeping my upper body from smashing down. I heaved, the air churning in my stomach. I retched, emptying out the contents of my stomach all over. My body continued to retch and heave; nothing but bile left to expel. I gagged insistently my stomach ignoring the fact that there was nothing left to bring up. I felt as warm hands tucked the veil of hair back, making sure that I didn't drench it in my upset. I didn't have the strength to lift my head but I could see the dark jeans of the man kneeling next to me. His lips made contact with the side of my head and a silver cross floated into my view. My vision was blurred due to the watering of my eyes, but that bright Celtic cross shone like a beacon in the fading light. I tore my hand away from my abdomen, clamping my fingers around the swinging cross. I caught the cross and gathered it close to my lips.

I murmured, "Je vous salue Marie, Marie pleine de grâce, le Seigneur est avec vous. Vous êtes bénieentre toute les femmes, et Jésus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni. Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu, priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs, maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort. Ainsi soit-il. [_Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen._]"

It had been years since the last time I had ever thought, not to mention spoke, the prayer out loud but as if I'd never missed a day of Church in my life, the words poured out seamlessly. The coolness of the metal felt calming against my lips. I repeated the invocation, the effect soothing me. Filip was stunned by the reaction I had. He pulled my body towards his chest, engulfing his arms around me. I clutched at the cross, refusing to let go.

"C'mon love, let's get ya inside." He whispered in my ear.

I managed a slight nod, both arms still curved towards my torso. I felt the muscles in his arms contract as they circled around me. One arm scooped below my knees, cradling my body in towards his chest. He took his time as he rose up, careful not jostle me. I laid my head against the leather covering his shoulder, breathing in the tanned smell. I closed my eyes allowing the movements of his steps to lull me into a hypnotized state. He laid me gently against the pillows, pushing my hair away from my face. Before standing up, he lifted the long chain from around his neck, looping it around mine. I opened my eyes to stare at him, shocked by the gesture. He flipped my hair out from under the chain, letting it rest against my neck.

"Ya need it more than I do." He explained.

His lips brushed against my forehead in a soft kiss. I watched him as he retreated away from the bed and the room. He shut the door behind him, only the tiny click of the latch catching indicating his departure. The tears came flooding back. I never expected to have someone like Filip in my life, not after everything that had happened. I was ashamed to admit it, but I did believe in some form of karma. I didn't deserve a man like him. I had done too many unforgivable things; even if I was privy to the wrongness of my actions when carrying them out, I still participated. I twirled the cross between my fingers, water blurring my vision. As cut off emotionally as Filip could appear, he was a genuinely sweet man, someone who truly did love me. I was surprised that even after the display in the kitchen he was still the first one to come for me; I was still his priority. I sighed, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. He needed the truth, not just the PBS version; the entire story. I inched up into a sitting position, deciding to take a shower. If I cleared my head, I'd be in a better space to finally speak the truth.


	17. History Lesson

He joined his brothers in the kitchen, the French man still kneeling in the middle of the room was standing beside the man, Beau, as Eva had called him. The man's sobs subsided yet he still kneeled helplessly, his head hanging, hands limp against his lap. He scanned the room, finding that all his brothers were as just as lost as him. No one knew how to proceed. They knew that the Mayans were mentioned, but no one other than this man and Eva could speak French. They hadn't understood the argument between them. Clay motioned for the Prospect to guard over the man, while the rest of them congregated in the living room.

Jax sunk down into the couch, rubbing his temples, "Can anyone explain what the hell just happened?"

Everyone was silent, processing the events that had transpired. Filip had an idea about what had transpired, what led up to the explosion, but to be frank he wasn't in the mood to say anything about Eva and a situation he didn't fully understand. It was Happy's rasp that broke the silence.

"Someone they both know gutted her." He grumbled.

Clay grunted, "Yea but what does any of that have to do with the Mayans?"

Happy shrugged, unsure of the answer. Filip, Tig and Opie were all staring out the open back door. They all looked on to the spot where Eva had dropped down and thrown up. They were the three to go and check on her as she left the kitchen. They were the three who witnessed the after effects.

"I hate to ask this…" Clay started, "Chibs, we need to know what's going on. You're the closest one to her. You think you can get the information from her?"

Filip nodded absently, still staring out into the darkened back yard, "Aye. Let me give her the night though."

Clay nodded, giving Filip the time to give his old lady to recover. They all fell into a contemplative silence. Jax leaned forward, his elbows leaning against his knees. His hands were splayed through his hair, holding the strands back. Opie tugged on the beginnings of his beard, uncomfortable with what he'd witnessed. Tig had his forehead rested against the glass door, one hand pressed flat, all fingers tapping lightly against it. The rings on his hands hit against the glass, causing a clinking sound. Bobby was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, hands resting on his knees. He zoned out, seeing only his reflection in the TV. Claywas edged on the coffee table, gazing down at his wedding ring. Otto was leaning against the wall, his fist curled, the light glinting off of his wedding. They all had woman in their lives who they loved, mothers, wives, girlfriends, sisters and daughters. To learn that someone deliberately killed attacked another man's woman, angered and broke them to a certain extent.

Tig turned his face to the side, eyes unfocussed, breathing irregularly, "Is she going to be ok?"

Filip raised his arm, clasping his brother on the shoulder. He squeezed, "She's made it this far."

He had nothing but hope for the woman in his life. She was resilient, always fighting. He knew that she would push through. His thoughts were continued by Opie, as if he knew exactly what was going through his mind.

"She has family now; she has us. We'll all be there for her whenever she needs us." Opie reinforced.

All the men in the club knew the soft side that Tig possessed. It didn't surface often, but he did care exponentially for his brothers, and their families. He would drop everything for any of them, whenever they needed it. Filip was content with the security net that the club had given him, and now extended out to Eva. He knew that even if she wasn't his old lady, they'd still care for her and protect her if it was needed, but given the night's events, he'd never been more proud to call himself SAMCRO.

The men pulled themselves together, remembering that there was still a strange man sitting in the kitchen of a member's home. One by one they filed back into the room. The strange man, Beau, was now standing, the Prospect keeping a keen eye on him.

Beau turned immediately, pinpointing Filip. In a heavily laced creole accent he addressed him, "Yer the one who she lives with?"

Filip nodded curtly, "Aye."

Beau's eyes flickered, contempt filling them, "Ya take care of her?"

Filip scoffed, "I don't think ya have a right to be concerned about her any more."

Beau narrowed his eyes. Instead of causing another fight, he simply lifted his hands, signalling that he wanted to be let free.

"Why should we let you go?" Clay demanded.

Beau pivoted on the spot, taking in Clay, "She'll tell ya what ya want ta know. I have no business here. I only came ta see her."

Clay gave him a hard glare, taking a moment to gauge the man's demeanour. Beau noticed that they weren't going to let him go just by his meek explanation.

Beau sighed in exasperation, "If, after tha information she gives ya, ya think ya need to find me. She'll know how ta get to me."

All the Sons were tired and weary from the evening. Clay nodded, hesitantly, signalling to both Tig and the Prospect. The kid pulled out his knife, sawing at the ties, snapping them apart. Tig positioned himself at an angle where he could pull his gun and shoot if anything went south. The prospect backed away from Beau, knife still gripped tightly in his hand. Beau rubbed his wrists, soothing the irritated skin. He straightened his back, making his way for the front door. He strode past each and every Son, head held high and straight. As his hand descended onto the front door's handle, a strong hand clamped onto his shoulder.

He turned his gaze, meeting the dark-haired accented man face to face.

"Stay away from Charming. Stay away from Eva." Filip warned.

Beau pulled the door open, hurt filling his heart at the pet name, "She's strong, ya know that, but she needs someone right now." Beau met Evangeline's new man's eyes one last time, "Keep her safe."

Filip pulled his hand away from the man, letting him walk out the door. His fingers curled into a fist, frustrated by the tone of superiority on the other man. Filip watched as the man entered the black car parked on the other side of the street and drove away. Once he was gone, Happy shut the door, breaking Filip's line of vision.

Clay's voice gravelled, "Happy, Prospect," He pointed to the two of them, "Stay here with Chibs tonight. Play it safe. We don't know this guy, he might come back with more fire power."

Hap and the Prospect nodded. Three of them hung back, mumbling goodbyes to the rest of the club. Once all the bikes had disappeared down the street Filip turned to his brothers.

"Juice, ya can sleep where ya normally do." The prospect nodded, Filip continued, "Hap, you'll have ta settle for the couch."

Happy nodded, going round the median to shut and lock the back door. Filip threw the couch blanket at Happy. The Prospect was already retreating into the spare room.

* * *

><p>He pushed the door open quietly, so as to not disturb Eva. When he entered the room, he found her sitting on the corner of the bed, wrapped in a towel, hair still sopping wet. She didn't look up when he shut the door behind him. There had only been a few times that he'd felt this uncomfortable. He felt like an intruder in her home. He knew that he wasn't and that this was his home too but something about her defeated posture made him feel out-of-place. He realized that he knew nothing about her before Charming. He slipped his cut down his shoulders, folding it in half and laying it across the dresser.<p>

"We let him go." He told her.

She didn't look up, still staring at her opened hands, "Ok."

He took a step forward, "Hap and Juice are stayin' the night."

"Ok." Again nothing but her minimal answer.

He stopped halfway between the door and the bed. Her body language giving him mixed messages. She seemed to want comfort but the way she was shut off made him believe that she wanted to be alone. She turned her hands over, wringing them together.

"Beau wasn't here because of the Mayans." She muttered.

He nodded, "Aye, so he said."

She looked up and over at him, eyes steady and clear, "They want to know."

It wasn't a question. All he could do was nod. The club needed answers.

She sighed, twisting her hair between her fingers, "I'll tell you my truth, but it's not the reason Raymond is here."

Filip shoved his hands into his pockets, waiting for her explanation. He couldn't bring himself to get any closer. He didn't know what the outcome was going to be.

She turned her gaze back down, boring a hole into the floor under her feet, "Amoung other things, Raymond is a notorious drug dealer in Louisiana. The Mayan's called him out here for help with their heroin trafficking. That can be bad for the club's business. He's a well-connected man with very deep pockets. Senators, government, law enforcement, rich, famous, you name it, they all work for him. Ya'll are going to need to be smart moving forward, now that he's on their side."

He took a suck of breath in, processing the intel she was giving him. He desperately wanted to know how she knew him, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her the question. Her hands moved to the bottom of her hair, weaving back and forth, creating a minute braid.

"We lived outside of New Orleans, in the Bayou. We didn't have a lot of money, but we weren't dirt poor either." She started, "When I was about sixteen, I woke up, in the middle of the night, to the smell of smoke. I raced out of the house, assuming that everyone else had been woken up too. By the time I was outside and realized that no one else had made it out, it was too late. I tried to turn around, go back inside and save my family, but the fire had reached the gas valves in the house and it exploded. I was blown backwards, distraught and crying. That was the night that Raymond picked me up."

I paused, letting the information process between us. It had been too long since I'd dredged up these unhappy memories but they needed to be spoken, if only for Filip to understand how Beau fit in.

I lapsed back into my speech, "From that day on, Raymond became my mentor. It was working for him that I met Beau. You could consider us Raymond's surrogate children; he never did have any of his own. Raymond moulded us into the lethal enforcers that we are today. He's the one who set the framework. I didn't know this at the time, but Beau had always harboured a sort of crush on me. I was too angry from losing my family to care about anything else around me, which made me Raymond's favourite." I stopped to take a breath, "After some time, I began to notice Beau. I saw the way he looked at me and I felt loved. He and Raymond had become my new family. To Raymond's displeasure, Beau and I grew closer, eventually becoming a couple. Around the time I was twenty, I grew gravely ill, throwing up all day, all night, unable to keep any food down, and seriously limited in what foods would settle in my stomach. I eventually made an appointment to see a doctor and that's when I found out I was pregnant, with Beau's children; twins…"

Filip cut me off, "Love, ya don't need to tell me any more."

I hadn't realized I'd started crying again. My body shook beneath me, and I clenched my hands together, finding some strength.

I glanced up at him, nodding, "Yes I do, you need to know." I wiped my eyes before continuing, "Somehow, Raymond had found out and intercepted me. I was on my way to relay the happy news to Beau, but Raymond had beat me. He filled Beau's head with lies surrounding me, telling him that I was a traitor. He made an elaborate story about how I'd ratted them out, making myself some sort of deal. He even went as far as to get the police on his payroll to create fake documents to support his lie. I was dumbfounded, I didn't even know how to react. Beau turned on me instantly, calling me out, while I denied everything he accused me of. In the background I could see Raymond's face, contorted with sick pleasure. I started to come to some disturbing realizations, and Raymond saw that. Raymond decided in that moment, it was time to take care of me. He shoved Beau aside, gutting me with his knife. Beau staggered away, surprised at his actions. Beau never had it in him to physically hurt me, but Raymond was another man. I wept for my murdered children, knowing that Beau would never believe me. They left me for dead, hell I left myself for dead. Someone came across my slumped body in the alleyway and I woke up the next morning alone in the hospital. I learned two things that morning, first something I already knew, I lost my children, and second, the knife had scarred my uterus so badly that I'd never be able to have children ever."

It was silent in our room, I was holding my breath, finally having spoken those words out loud.

Before I could let Filip react I finished, "I left New Orleans that morning, never to return again. It's been six years since I showed up in Charming…"

I stopped, my story completed. I couldn't work up the courage to face Filip, unsure of what his face would hold. I stared down at my hands, wrenching them from side to side. I'd never spoken about that night and it had been a long time since I was plagued with its thoughts. I sobbed away, tears blurring my vision. I wasn't actually sure that I'd properly mourned the death of my unborn children, but here I was now, at my rope's end. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to stop when I felt Filip's warm hands engulf mine. My eyes sprang open, to find Filip kneeling on the floor in front of me. He brushed my hair out of my face, a softened pity across his.

He lifted my hands to his mouth, kissing each finger that hecould reach.

"Tell me whatever it is ya need." He whispered into my hand, "I'll give ya anything love."

I sniffled, more tears falling. I opened my mouth prepared to tell him that I didn't need anything but when I tried to speak, nothing but a strangled squeak came out. Filip held my hands against his mouth, his heated breath soothing my quaking body.

I closed my eyes, and gulped, looking for the right words, "Just… Just tell me ya still want me."


End file.
